


Ancestral Ties

by Natalie L (nat1228)



Series: Soul Quest [6]
Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Elves, M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 09:18:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 41,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/796532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nat1228/pseuds/Natalie%20L
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim and B'layr decide to leave the Tribe and investigate the mysterious stone tablet they uncovered twenty-five years before. Their search takes them first to Chichén Itzá, where they discover ancient ties to the elven ancestry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ancestral Ties

**Author's Note:**

> Author's website: <http://www.squidge.org/~nat1228/TSslash.htm>
> 
> To Terri, whose plot bunny help is what makes these stories, and to my intrepid betas; Mary, Elaine and Lyn, who work hard to catch all my mistakes and inconsistencies. Thanks to you all!
> 
> Elf-Blair, MPREG -- This story first appeared in the AngelWings Press zine "Soul Quest" by Natalie L.

* * *

The full moon shone down on the giant Kukulcán pyramid known as El Castillo. B'layr had clambered to the very top of the massive structure and now stood naked in the moonlight, his arms spread wide and his face upturned to the glowing orb in the night sky, giving himself to the god-spirits of this sacred place.

Jim watched the silent figure. The elf looked almost ethereal, bathed in the silver moonlight. He could almost believe he saw one of the ancient shamans mirrored in the slender profile.

~oO0Oo~

B'layr stared out the small window as the plane circled the Merida, Yucatan, airport in preparation for landing. He squeezed Jim's hand tightly, at once fascinated and frightened by the huge plane in which they rode. "I can't believe we're here," he whispered, turning to look at his traveling companion.

"How does it feel, being so far away from home?" Jim asked, leaning across the seat to kiss his mate. "The furthest you've ever been before is Cascade."

"This ... This is incredible!" the elf breathed, his eyes drawn back to the window and their swift descent to the airport.

"You ain't seen nothing yet, Imp," Jim said, laughing. "We've got a lot of area to cover in search of your ancestors."

" ** _Our_** ancestors," B'layr corrected absentmindedly as he felt the plane bump down and begin to taxi to the terminal.

Within minutes, they were pressed through the terminal gate by the hordes of tourists behind them and herded through Customs. Once they were free of the main crowd, Jim hailed a cab to take them to the Hyatt Regency, where he had booked a suite of rooms. He wanted to give his forest elf a taste of the luxury men could provide.

As the cabbie wove through the streets of the city, B'layr babbled excitedly. "You know, the city of Merida was founded by the Spaniard Francisco de Montejo in 1542. He built over the ruins of an ancient Mayan city called T'ho." B'layr was practically bouncing in his seat as he reeled off the history lesson to his mate. "Huge stones from the dismantled pyramids were used to found the Cathedral of San Ildefonso. Is that not incredible?"

Jim chuckled. "If you say so, Chief. You're way out of my league when it comes to this anthropology stuff."

"Jim, these people are the ancestors of the people who enslaved **_our_** ancestors," B'layr reminded him.

"We don't know that for certain," Jim said. "I thought that's what we came here to find out."

"I have spent hours, weeks ... months studying the Mayan culture and researching our Garden Stone," the elf insisted. "There is every evidence that our people were enslaved by the upper class of the ancient Mayan civilization. What I do not know," he said, his hands gesturing to emphasize his words, "is how they got here in the first place or from what area they originated."

"There's no rush," Jim reminded him. "We can stay as long as we like; see the sights, do your research." As the cab came to a halt in front of their hotel, Jim reached across B'layr to unlock the car's door.

The cabbie hurried around to the curbside, opening the door for the two men. B'layr stepped out, getting his first real feel of the warm Mexican sun. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, drinking in the luscious dry heat. "This is great!" he said, smiling. "I think I am going to like it here."

"Wait till you see our room," Jim said, snagging B'layr's elbow and pulling the elf inside.

Once inside the elegant hotel, B'layr was again amazed. His head swiveled side to side, up and down, as he took in such wonders as the crystal chandelier, ornate woven carpet, brass handrails and the decorative hammered brass elevator doors. He followed Jim more by instinct than by sight, halting inches behind his mate at the reception desk.

"Ellison," Jim said to the concierge at the front desk. He waited while the man looked up the name in his computer.

"Room 4437, sir," the man said, handing Jim a small envelope containing two key cards. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"Not at the moment," Jim answered, thanking the man as he gathered the still gawking B'layr and led him to the bank of elevators.

They stepped off on the fourth floor and located their room. Jim pulled a key card from the envelope. "This is what unlocks the room," he explained. "You put the card in the slot like this," he demonstrated, "then pull it out. See the green light?" B'layr nodded. "That means the door is unlocked." He turned the knob and threw open the door, handing the envelope with the remaining key card to B'layr. "You'll need that. Keep it safe."

B'layr pocketed the key and looked with amazement at their room. Jim locked the door behind him and steered B'layr toward the windows.

"This ... This is bigger than our cabin!" B'layr said, still in awe. "It is bigger than your loft!"

"About the same as the loft, I'd say," Jim said, mentally measuring out the square footage. The large main room held a king-sized bed, table and chairs, a couch and an entertainment system. Off to the right was a small kitchenette if they should desire to fix their own meals, and to the left was an opulent bathroom, complete with a Jacuzzi tub large enough to hold six people comfortably.

"Whoa! Would you look at that!" B'layr said, gazing at the tub. "That thing is nearly as big as a small pool."

"Speaking of pools," Jim said, pointing out the large window that was behind the Jacuzzi.

B'layr followed Jim's direction, looking out the window to the hotel's swimming pool four floors below. "It has fountains!" he said with amazement. "And a waterfall!" He quickly began to shed his clothing.

"Hold on there a minute, Imp," Jim said, arresting B'layr's hand as it lighted on the zipper to his jeans. "They frown on public nudity here. No skinny dipping in the hotel pool."

"But..." B'layr looked forlorn. "I would like to swim."

"You can swim," Jim said with a smile. "But you have to wear a swimsuit."

The elf looked puzzled. "So you have told me before. I have studied many cultures and many civilizations," B'layr admitted. "But I still do not understand. To the majority of the native peoples in South America and Africa, nudity is as natural as it is among the elves. Why does your so-called civilization frown on it?"

Jim pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed at the corner of his eye. B'layr's insatiable curiosity about cultures outside the Tribe frequently ended up posing questions for which he had no ready answers. "In our society," he began, thinking as he spoke, "sex is considered something private, something you do behind closed doors. Most people view exposed genitals or women's breasts in a sexual manner...."

"Why?" B'layr interrupted, perplexed by the whole notion.

"I-I don't know," Jim finally answered, exasperated and amused. "I think it had something to do with religion hundreds of years ago. You're the scholar; look it up."

"I think I will ... later," B'layr said with a wink. "But for now, if the pool is off limits, there is always this spacious tub." He finished pulling off his clothing and then climbed into the Jacuzzi. "How does one get the water?"

Jim chuckled and showed his mate how to use the faucet. As the water filled the giant tub, Jim stripped and joined his lover, pulling him into a tight embrace and kissing the full lips. When the Jacuzzi was filled and the jets set to low, B'layr pulled his mate into the deep center section and wrapped his legs around Jim's waist, bringing their cocks into instant alignment.

"It has been too long," B'layr chuckled, leaning down to latch onto a hard nipple.

Jim arched into the electric touch. "Oh God..." he breathed as jolts of sensation traveled from the nipple B'layr was teasing with his teeth straight to his already aching cock. "It's only been eighteen hours, at most," he gasped.

"Too long," B'layr repeated, rocking in Jim's lap to rub their erections together with a delicious friction.

"Unh..." Jim agreed, repeating " _Un-h-h-h_..." a few minutes later as his cock pulsed with his climax in synchronicity with B'layr's.

"That is much better," the sated elf said with a lazy smile. "Now, perhaps, we should get busy."

"Unh..." Jim agreed, his eyes still closed as he lay limply in the warm water. A strong hand reached down to pull him out and wrap him in the luxury of a fluffy white towel. The air conditioning in the room caused him to shiver after the warmth of the tub, and he finally came back fully to his senses.

"Look, Jim!" B'layr called from the main room, where he had seated himself at the table to look at the brochures left there by the hotel. "There are museums here, lots of museums! There is an Anthropology and History Museum, and a Natural History Museum. Those would be good places to start, do you not think?" He looked up at his rumpled mate and smiled.

"Or how about here?" Jim asked, pulling out a brochure on the Autonomous University of Yucatan.

"Yes, yes!" B'layr agreed. "All these places! Excellent!"

"Do you want to get started this afternoon?" Jim asked, digging the hotel's menu from the stack.

"I would like to see Chichén Itzá first," B'layr declared. "As an archeological site, it may no longer contain the answers I need, but I wish to see it."

"All right," Jim agreed. "How about lunch first, and then we'll rent a car and drive out there?"

"Do they have red fruits?" B'layr asked, trying to read the menu upside down.

"I'm sure they do, Chief," Jim chuckled. "I'm sure they do."

After lunch, Jim called down to the concierge's desk and asked to have a rental car charged to their room. By the time they had gotten dressed and downstairs, a blue Ford Explorer awaited their use.

The 120-kilometer drive to the archeological site took a little over an hour via the well-maintained federal highway. By the time they arrived, B'layr was once again bouncing in his seat, bursting with information he could hardly wait to share with his indulgent mate. They began at the popular Northern Group of ruins that included the famous pyramid, El Castillo.

B'layr skipped on ahead, turning back frequently to make sure that Jim was following him. As they crossed the expanse of grassy meadow, he couldn't help but chatter on about the amazing architecture of the place. "You know, Jim," he began, "this pyramid was built to honor the god Quetzalcoatl, which the Mayans called Kukulcán. In mid-afternoon at the equinoxes, the sun casts a pattern of light and shadow from the northeast angle of the pyramid against the northern stairway, causing a pattern of triangles that looks just like a great snake descending the side. See those huge stone heads of Kukulcán at the base? It is an incredible sight!"

"Breathe, Chief," Jim admonished the excited elf. "Remember to breathe."

B'layr took a deep breath before starting again. "There are ninety-one steps on each of the four sides," he continued. "If you include the platform at the top, that makes a total of 365 steps, one for each day of the year. The Mayans' grasp of astronomy was nothing short of miraculous."

To Jim's relief, they finally reached the structure and began climbing the steep stairway. Even to the physically fit elf, the climb was enough to take his attention and his breath. Blessed quiet ensued until they reached the top.

The view was spectacular, fanning out over the large open area to encompass all the ruins and the jungle nearby. B'layr quickly circled the temple building at the top, getting an overall feel for the vast area. "Let us go inside," he insisted, after he was satisfied with the view from outside.

Jim shook his head and quietly followed his tour guide inside the structure. The interior was dark and strangely stifling. He took a moment to adjust his sight, watching as B'layr studied the ancient carvings in the walls.

"Jim! Come here!" B'layr gestured excitedly to the Sentry. "You have got to see this!" Jim walked over, crouching down beside B'layr to look at what had gotten him so stirred up. "Most of the carvings in here are of Chaac, the Mayan rain god. But look here..." He pointed to a carving badly marred by time. "This one has pointed ears."

"Maybe this rain god had pointed ears," Jim suggested.

"No, no," B'layr said, shaking his head. "The Mayans depicted their gods as animal spirits or men. This is an elf, Jim. I knew it! Our ancestors were here!"

"Slow down a minute, my soul. Don't get ahead of yourself." Jim laid a calming hand on the elf's shoulder. "This drawing is badly damaged." He reached out to trace a finger around the ragged edges of the relief. "It could just be a chip of stone that made the ear **_appear_** pointed."

B'layr ignored his mate's comments, crawling along the floor of the temple to see if there were any more images of elves hidden among the carvings. He finally gave up. "There is only that one," he said with a sigh. "But it is enough to confirm to me that our Garden Stone is indeed of Mayan origin. But why? How did it get all the way to our mountain?"

Jim shook his head. "You've got me. Are you ready to go back? Maybe we could check out the museums."

"Not today," B'layr said, standing and dusting off his jeans. "I would like to look around here more. There is still the Temple of the Warriors and the Temple of the Jaguars, the ball court and the Tzompantli. Come on!"

"The Tzomp ... what?" Jim said, following the elf back out into the bright afternoon sun.

"The Platform of Skulls," B'layr translated. "The Mayans displayed the skulls of captives and sacrifices there as a way to frighten their enemies and display their skill as warriors."

"Oh." Jim's voice fell flat. This whole visit was getting to be just a bit too gruesome for his tastes.

"Let us visit the Temple of the Jaguars first," B'layr suggested. "Do you not think it is fascinating that the Mayans built a temple to your spirit guide?"

"I doubt that was their intent," Jim argued, following his mate down the steep stairway of the pyramid.

They circled El Castillo, walking past the ball court toward another enormous Toltec temple behind the pyramid. "Oh man ... Look, Jim!" B'layr pointed to the procession of jaguars carved on the upper portion of the temple. "Isn't that amazing?"

"Sure is, Chief," Jim agreed, knowing it was better to nod and smile when B'layr got enthusiastic. It wasn't that he didn't find the place interesting, but they'd barely had a chance to relax and rest after their long flight to Mexico, and he was anxious to get back to the hotel.

"I would really like to get a look at the frescoes in the upper portion of the temple," B'layr said with longing. That area had been closed to the public to protect and preserve the delicate paintings.

"Maybe we could get special permission," Jim suggested. "Although it would mean another trip out here at some other time."

"Do you mean that, Jim?" B'layr was almost beside himself with excitement. "The paintings are supposedly of military scenes from the history of Chichén Itzá. There is a good possibility that our people might be represented there."

"I thought you said they were slaves, not warriors?" Jim said, asking for clarification.

B'layr nodded. "Yes, but the scenes might show their capture or sacrifice," he explained. He stopped before the carved, jaguar-shaped throne in front of the entrance to the lower section of the temple. "Incredible..." Continuing inside the small annex, B'layr made his way to the back wall, where a fresco was still displayed for the public view. It depicted warriors carrying dart throwers, a common weapon of Central Mexico at the time. There was also a dignitary seated on his throne. B'layr knelt to examine the painting more closely, noting several insignificant men kneeling, bowed and naked, before the ruler.

"Find something?" Jim asked, squatting next to his mate and adjusting his eyes to view the painting in the dimness of the room.

"Our people," B'layr said with breathless awe, reaching out a tentative hand as if to touch the subservient figures and then pulling back. He turned his face up to Jim. "Our people were here."

The sun was lowering in the west when they exited the Temple of the Jaguars. The couple wandered through the ball court, as B'layr explained the sport to his curious mate. "They had rubber balls that they had to put through these stone scoring rings without using their hands," he said, watching as Jim's interest went up a notch at the thought of some sort of ball sport being played here. "Only the warriors and nobles were allowed to play."

"What's this?" Jim asked, examining the sculpted relief of a beheading on one wall of the court.

B'layr came up behind him. "There are different theories," he began, slipping easily into a lecture mode. "Some anthropologists think the losers were sacrificed, but a more current theory says it was the captain of the winning team who lost his life, as he made the most fitting sacrifice to the gods." He turned around, gesturing to the two large stone rings on opposite walls of the field. "The games were played for sport and wager, but had a definite religious significance. The Mayan creation story has the _Popol Vuh_ , divine twin heroes, playing this game for their lives, pitted against the lords of the underworld."

"Doesn't sound like the sort of sport I'd want to take part in," Jim said, wrapping an arm around the shoulders of his mate. "Do we get to go home now? It's getting dark."

"Just a little while longer," B'layr pleaded. "There's a full moon tonight."

"And the significance of that is...?" Jim asked, bemused by the request.

"I wish to thank the spirits of this place, for leading us here and showing us what we came to see," B'layr answered mysteriously.

Jim smiled and shook his head. They had spent over twenty-five years of their lives together, and there were still times the elven beliefs confounded his logical mind.

"We must return to the pyramid," B'layr said, taking Jim's hand and leading him back toward the north face of El Castillo. As they began the long climb back to the top, Jim noted that there were very few people left now that it was getting dark.

"Doesn't this place close soon?" Jim asked, panting as he made his way up the stairway for the second time that day.

"In a short while," B'layr informed him. "When it does, we must be concealed in the temple room, so that we are not expelled before the moon rises."

Darkness fell and the moon rose, while the couple waited in concealment inside the pyramid's temple.

"I must find a way to the roof," B'layr said, rising from where he sat and passing out into the clear night air. Studying the stone structure, he finally made a decision. "I can climb."

"B'layr, I don't like this," Jim grumbled as the elf kicked off his shoes and began with fingers and toes to feel his way up the temple wall using cracks and crevasses in the stone. "It's dangerous."

"Do you not trust me?" B'layr asked, stopping to look over his shoulder at his mate.

"I just don't want you getting hurt."

"I will be careful," B'layr assured him.

The elf reached the flat roof of the temple and turned in a full circle, taking in the sights from his higher perspective. Then, as Jim watched in shocked amazement, B'layr began to strip. Once he was naked, he raised his arms toward the full moon, and then spread them wide in supplication. The silvery light touched the pale skin with an unearthly glow, and B'layr appeared transformed to the eyes watching him.

A slight breeze picked up, blowing the hair back from B'layr's face, revealing the delicate points of his ears. Then, with his face still upturned to the moon, one hand dropped to his groin, stroking and caressing himself to fullness. Jim looked on, growing hard as well at the erotic scene being played out before him.

Never faltering in his continued worship of the moon, B'layr's fist pumped his organ to climax. The glittering stream of semen arched away from his body—sparkling silver droplets blessing the ancient stone. When he was finished, B'layr dressed and climbed down, coming to stand next to his mate.

"What the hell was that all about?" Jim asked softly.

"It was a ritual sacrifice," B'layr explained as he led the way back to the stairs that would take them down to the field and, eventually, back to their hotel. "Spilling living seed on the ancient stones, I gave a gift to the spirits that inhabit this place."

"What if you'd been caught?" Jim's voice was tight with fear. "How would you explain being buck naked and jerking off to the guards?"

"But I was not caught," B'layr said calmly.

"But what if you had been?"

"J'anin," B'layr began, using Jim's elven name. "I was not." With that, B'layr closed himself off to further comment.

The trip back to the hotel was a quiet one. Once the door was closed and locked behind them, Jim stripped and climbed into bed. B'layr undressed more slowly, unsure of his current welcome. Hesitantly, he climbed into the bed. An arm reached out to pull him close.

"You are angry." B'layr lay spooned against his lover's firm body, cradled by strong arms.

Jim nuzzled into the long hair, exhaling moist, warm air on the back of B'layr's neck. "Not angry," he corrected. "Worried; maybe a little confused."

B'layr turned in his lover's arms to face him. "Why, my heart?"

"This trip is so important to you," Jim began softly. "I don't want to see it cut short because some imbecilic guard mistook your actions for some perverted desecration."

"I will be more careful," B'layr promised. "I am sorry that I caused you worry."

"You were beautiful up there," Jim whispered. "Like some ancient legend come to life. I wanted you so badly...."

"You have me, Love. All of me, whenever you wish."

Jim felt himself becoming aroused as the lithe figure of his mate snuggled closer. He hated arguing with B'layr, but the make-up sex almost made the experience worthwhile, he mused.

~oO0Oo~

They awoke the next morning, ripe with the scent of their lovemaking. Jim wrinkled his nose and pulled back the covers. "I think I'll go fill the tub," he said. "Are you going to join me?"

Sleepy blue eyes blinked up at him and full lips curled in a lazy smile. "I wish to go swimming today," B'layr announced, still sprawled on the bed.

" ** _After_** our bath," Jim insisted. "They wouldn't allow you within fifty feet of the pool smelling like that."

Obediently, B'layr rose and followed Jim into the bathroom. "Will you take me shopping for a swimsuit?" he asked, climbing into the Jacuzzi as the water ran to fill it.

"I saw some shops off the lobby here in the hotel," Jim said. "We can probably find something there."

What they found, rather what **_B'layr_** found, could easily have fit into a thimble.

"You're **_not_** going to wear that!" Jim exclaimed, shocked. "Are you even sure that will cover what it's supposed to cover?"

"It is the closest to swimming nude that I could find," B'layr answered, holding up the bright red thong bathing suit.

"But ... But..." Jim stuttered. "Maybe something a little more conservative?" he suggested, holding out a pair of swim trunks in a wild tropical print.

"No; this will do nicely," B'layr insisted, taking the scrap of fabric to the checkout. Jim followed with the trunks, determined that his mate would not swim alone wearing the provocative suit.

Jim had insisted that B'layr wear a bathrobe from the room to the pool, but as soon as they stepped through the gate into the pool area, the elf shed the garment, walking across the warm cement toward the water with purposeful strides.

From behind, the thong disappeared between the two round globes of B'layr's ass, leaving only a slender thread around his waist. The front wasn't much better, with the bright red material leaving nothing to the imagination as it molded to every curve and ridge of the body parts it—barely—covered.

Reaching the edge of the pool, B'layr dove in, slicing the water cleanly. Jim's eyes followed the line of the slender body as it arrowed through the water near the bottom of the pool. When B'layr came up for air, it was like a dolphin breaching the ocean waves. He shook his head, sending water flying in all directions from his saturated curls.

Jim dove into the water and swam to where B'layr was waiting, treading water with practiced ease. He gathered the elf into his arms, not caring if anyone noticed, and pressed a kiss against the water-drenched lips. B'layr laughed, and then twisting free, began to swim the length of the large pool, toward the waterfall that decorated the far end.

"Is this not wonderful?" B'layr asked when Jim joined him under the artificial falls. "It feels good to be in the water again." B'layr had always loved swimming, frequently slipping off with or without Jim to the sacred pool for a dip. After a few minutes of being pummeled by the falling water, B'layr hefted himself out of the pool and walked over to a lounge, stretching out to dry off in the sun.

Jim sat on a neighboring lounge, facing the sunbathing elf. "What do you want to do this afternoon?"

Without opening his eyes, B'layr smiled. "I think it is time to visit the museums. I would like to go to the Anthropology and History Museum first," he said. "We might find something there. There is even a slim chance that the curator can grant us access to the Jaguar Temple's upper room, or knows someone who can."

"What makes you think that?" Jim asked. "For all he knows, we're simple tourists."

"I brought my academic credentials with me," B'layr answered. "How am I supposed to write a doctoral dissertation, if I cannot gain access to the relevant research materials?"

"So you've decided to go through with it?" Jim asked. "How are you going to pull off a dissertation on the captivity of **_elves_** without revealing the Tribe to the world?"

"I am only gathering facts now," B'layr explained. "I will decide the 'how' later. Perhaps I can disguise the fact that we are a different race. But first, I must determine our origin in order to formulate a hypothesis on the manner in which the elves arrived here in the first place."

"Yes, Professor," Jim said with a chuckle. When he had first met his mate over fifty years ago, he had found a wounded elf whose occupation was that of his tribe's tanner and weaver. The fey creature knew nothing of life outside the forest glade in which his tribe lived, yet now he was a scholar of high ranking among his peers at Rainier University in Cascade. It never failed to amuse Jim to hear the scholarly language issuing from forest-bred lips.

B'layr continued to lie in the sun, turning over to dry his back as well. Jim admired the naked beauty presented to him before tearing his thoughts away to turn them toward more practical considerations. "Hungry?" B'layr nodded. "Okay. I'll go get us something. Be right back."

He filled two plates from the complimentary breakfast buffet and returned to where B'layr waited by the pool. They took their time eating, enjoying the warm morning sun and the young women parading in suits not much larger than the one B'layr sported.

"Hey, Imp!" Jim reached across the space between their two lounge chairs to give his mate a quick slap against the back of his head, sending the drying curls bouncing. "Stop staring."

"They are very beautiful," B'layr said, not taking his eyes off the shapely women now sunning themselves nearby.

"Yes, yes they are," Jim agreed. "But you're taken. Remember that."

"How could I possibly forget?" B'layr stood up and leaned down to briefly press his lips against those of his mate. "Shall we go? I think it is time to visit the museums." Wrapping himself in his discarded robe, he began to make his way back to their room.

~oO0Oo~

The Anthropology and History Museum was located in the old governor's mansion, not more than a mile from the hotel. B'layr was bouncing with excitement as they walked the short distance.

"This is beautiful!" B'layr breathed as they stood in front of the hundred-year-old building. "Come on, Jim!" He took his mate by the arm and hurried him inside. The bookstore they passed as they entered was a mild distraction, something to check out later, the elf decided.

They made their way around the impressive exhibits of Mayan culture with B'layr explaining the significance of each to his bemused partner.

"But does any of this have anything to do with why we came here?" Jim finally interrupted the spiel to ask.

B'layr shook his head. "Unfortunately, no. Maybe if I could find the curator...."

"May I be of service?" a heavily accented voice asked from behind them.

The couple turned to find themselves faced with a middle-aged man, features browned and wrinkled by many years in the sun. "Yes," B'layr answered, smiling at the man. "I was hoping to speak with the curator of the museum."

"I am he." The man extended a hand. "Pedro Garcia, at your service."

B'layr took the offered hand and shook. "B'layr," he introduced himself. "And this is..."

"Jim. Jim Ellison," he interrupted before B'layr could say anything that might embarrass them in front of this stranger.

"Very nice to meet you both," Garcia said, smiling. "What may I do to help you?"

"I am a student of anthropology at Rainier University in Cascade, Washington," B'layr explained. "Jim and I spent yesterday afternoon at the ruins of Chichén Itzá. I am investigating the history of a small group of slaves held captive when the Mayan civilization was at its height."

"This must be very difficult," Garcia said. "The Mayans held many slaves. To research one small group... There cannot be much for you to go on."

"No, there has not been," B'layr agreed. He pulled a picture of the Garden Stone from his pocket. "I found this high in the Cascade Mountains," he said.

Garcia studied the photograph. "It does indeed look Mayan in origin, but how can you be certain it is not a fake?"

"I have seen other evidence of these people in the carvings and frescoes at Chichén Itzá," B'layr explained. "I seek to gain access to the upper temple room of the Temple of the Jaguars. I believe there might be more evidence there."

"But that is off-limits," Garcia told them. "No one is allowed there without prior permission, which is not easy to obtain. It is for the preservation of the frescoes."

"We understand that," Jim interrupted. "But we don't intend any harm."

"No, no," B'layr agreed. "We would not take any flash photographs or touch the paintings."

"I'm am very sorry, señor," Garcia said, shaking his head. "But it is impossible. However," he continued, when he saw B'layr's crestfallen look, "I might have something that can help you. Follow me."

The curator took off up the curving marble staircase to the upper rooms of the great mansion. Jim turned to follow, noting his mate had not yet bounded up the stairs in pursuit. "You feeling okay?" he asked. "You look a little red." He reached up to brush a stray strand of hair from B'layr's face. The elf hissed at the touch.

"I am fine." B'layr began to make his way up the stairs, obviously uncomfortable.

"You look a little toasted," Jim said, worrying that his mate may have overdone his time in the Mexican sun. A gentle hand between the shoulder blades brought another hiss of pain. "Maybe we should go back to the hotel."

"No. I wish to see what Señor Garcia has for us first," the elf insisted.

They entered the room they had seen the curator go into before them. Garcia was rummaging through a large file cabinet. Finding what he was looking for, he brought the folder over to a table, spreading the contents out for the two men to see.

"These are very meticulous artist renderings of the frescoes in the Temple of the Jaguars," he explained. "If you cannot go there in person, perhaps these will be of assistance to you."

"Yes!" B'layr said, lighting up as he leafed through the many pages of drawings. "This is good, very good. Jim, look!" He pointed to one drawing that depicted slaves among the warriors.

"Ah, the _'gente de hadas,'_ the fairy people," Garcia said, leaning over the drawing Jim and B'layr were studying.

" ** _Fairy_** people?" B'layr said, looking up. "You know of these slaves?"

"Very little is known of them," Garcia answered. "But there are legends among the Mayan people of the strange slaves from beyond the sea."

"What can you tell us?" The elf perched on the corner of the table, and then stood abruptly when the pain in his butt was more than he could tolerate.

"Folk tales have passed down through many generations," Garcia began. "They tell of a great war the Mayans of Chichén Itzá fought with their neighbors. Among the spoils, the warriors returned with slaves. These slaves were pale-skinned and had ears with points. They spoke a strange tongue that none could understand."

"You said they came from beyond the sea?" Jim asked. "Can you tell us more?"

"Only that they were found shipwrecked on the shore and taken back to Chichén Itzá as a gift for the governor of the city," Garcia answered. He gathered up the sketches and put them back into the folder. "There are no other depictions of the hada folk, except for the few you have seen at the ruins."

"What happened to them? Why do we not know more?" B'layr asked, intrigued by the story the curator told.

"They disappeared as suddenly as they came," Garcia said, sighing. "Legend tells of a group that rose up against their captors. There was a bloody battle and the slaves escaped, headed north."

"To end up in the Cascades of Washington," Jim concluded. "Very interesting, Mr. Garcia, but do you have anything to back up this story?"

"Nothing, señor," Garcia apologized. "These are tales and legends of our people, passed down in an oral tradition dating back a thousand years."

B'layr extended a hand, which Garcia took and shook firmly. "Thank you very much, Señor Garcia," he said. "We appreciate your time and your knowledge. It has been a great help."

Jim also shook the curator's hand before following B'layr down the stairs to the lobby of the museum.

"Mind if we stop at the bookstore before we leave?" B'layr asked, steering his tolerant mate in the direction of the small shop.

Jim waited while B'layr leafed through several volumes, finally picking two: one of Chichén Itzá, the other a book of Mayan folk tales.

"What next, Chief?" Jim asked as they made their way back out into the afternoon sun.

"I think I would like to go back to the hotel and get out of these clothes," B'layr said, looking distinctly uncomfortable.

As soon as they closed the hotel room door behind them, B'layr began to strip. Jim watched as more and more of the sunburned skin was revealed. The color rivaled the thong swimsuit, which had protected the most vulnerable part of B'layr's body. He pulled down the spread and blankets of the bed and watched as B'layr climbed carefully onto the cool sheets.

"I do not feel very well," the elf complained, sprawling to distribute his body weight across the scorched flesh.

"I can feel the heat coming off you from here," Jim replied, standing next to the bed and visually examining the reddened skin. A blister showed here and there across B'layr's belly and thighs, but all in all he assessed the burn to be more painful than serious. "Are you sick to your stomach?"

B'layr nodded.

Jim went to the kitchen and returned in a short time with a glass of cool water. Slipping a hand under B'layr's head, he lifted him so that the elf could sip the liquid. B'layr groaned and lay back on the pillows.

"I'm going to go down to the gift shop and see if they have any aloe vera gel," Jim said. "Be right back." When he returned, he found B'layr lying with his eyes closed, just as he had left him. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he squeezed some of the cooling gel into his hand and began to gently smooth it over the burn.

B'layr flinched at the first touch, and then relaxed as the gel comforted the pain. "That is nice," he sighed. "Thank you, Jim."

"I guess this means no more sun for you, unless you're wearing SPF 40 sunblock," he teased, spreading the gel down B'layr's abdomen to his thighs, gently skirting the undamaged genitals as the elf spread his legs to allow him access to the tender inner thighs.

"What is sunblock?" the elf asked.

"Turn over," Jim ordered, waiting until B'layr had rolled to his stomach to answer the question. "It's a lotion with ingredients that filter the burning rays of the sun," he explained. "It would have prevented this—" He lightly slapped a reddened butt cheek before coating it lavishly with the soothing gel.

"Ow!" B'layr protested, lifting his head to give his mate a scowl.

"Sorry," Jim apologized. "At least one part of you was protected. You should have taken the trunks, like I suggested," he added. "Less would have gotten burned."

"It would not have made that much difference," B'layr sighed, closing his eyes again.

"It would have allowed you to sit down," Jim pointed out. When he got no reply, he tried changing the subject. "We hit the jackpot at the museum, wouldn't you say?"

B'layr nodded, and then turned his head to the side and opened his eyes. "Señor Garcia was very helpful," he agreed.

"So, what do you want to do next? More museums? The university?" Jim probed, stretching out next to his mate, but not touching the tender skin.

"Perhaps the university," B'layr mumbled. "Maybe we can find something to help us track our people's escape to the north."

"Sounds like a plan," Jim agreed. "But first, I think you need to get some rest. We can go to the university in a day or two, when you're feeling better."

B'layr slept for the remainder of the afternoon, until Jim woke him up for dinner. Piling pillows behind his back, B'layr was able to sit up and eat with a tray across his lap. After dinner, Jim ran lukewarm water into the Jacuzzi and dumped a box of baking soda in before turning the jets on low. Helping his mate into the bathroom, he lowered B'layr into the soothing combination.

The elf sank to his neck in the treated water with a sigh. "Will you join me?"

Jim stripped quickly and climbed into the cool water, sitting opposite his mate. B'layr slipped across the tub to sit next to him. He snuggled under his lover's arm, laying his head on Jim's shoulder. With care, Jim wrapped his arm around the elf, protecting him.

"This feels very good," B'layr sighed, closing his eyes. "I love you, my heart."

Jim placed a kiss on top of the head of curls. "And I love you, my soul."

B'layr fell into a healing sleep, aided by the comfort of the water and the security of his mate's embrace. After an hour in the bath, Jim gently shook him awake. "Time to get out before you wrinkle up like a prune," he announced to the groggy elf. Standing, he got out of the tub, and then reached in to help B'layr out, wrapping him in the softness of a fluffy terry towel.

B'layr allowed himself to be patted dry and led back to bed. Jim knelt on the mattress beside him, spreading on another coat of the healing aloe gel. When he was finished, he stretched out beside his lover, leaving them both uncovered.

B'layr rolled over, scooting close until their bodies touched. Jim felt the searing heat of his lover's skin and waited to see what he would do.

"Hold me," the elf pleaded softly in spite of his pain.

Jim draped an arm across B'layr's waist, lightly stroking the elf's back and buttocks with the palm of his hand. He felt the tense muscles relax beneath his touch and kept up the tender caresses. Familiar stirrings awakened in his groin as the firmness of his mate's erection began to press against his thigh. "Oh, Baby," he whispered into the thick curls. "Not tonight, Sweetheart; I'd hurt you."

Warm tears dampened Jim's chest as he continued to hold his lover close, crooning messages of comfort to an aching heart.

B'layr finally fell asleep, and after another quarter hour monitoring his lover, Jim joined the elf in slumber.

It was three days before the redness and pain had faded enough that B'layr would even consider putting on clothes. Jim had gone shopping and returned with a white shirt with long, full sleeves, and a pair of loose-fitting cotton slacks for his reluctant mate. B'layr donned the outfit and then sat patiently as Jim coated all the exposed areas with sunblock lotion.

"There. Now you're ready to go out again," Jim announced. "How does it feel?"

"Tolerable," B'layr answered, not altogether happy that he was forced to dress again.

"You can't go to the university in the buff," Jim said with a laugh.

B'layr sighed. "Your world is very exciting and has much for me to explore and learn," he said. "But there are times I sorely miss the forest and our people. I would dearly love the freedom to dress as I please—or not—as it suits me."

"I'm afraid that as long as you're out in the world, you're going to have to follow the customs of men," Jim said. "So, are you ready to leave?"

"In a minute. I must comb my hair," B'layr said, heading for the bathroom.

The telephone rang.

B'layr paused in the doorway and waited while Jim picked it up. "Ellison."

_"Señor Ellison, this is Pedro Garcia—from the museum?"_ came the voice over the phone.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Garcia?"

_"I think the question is more what I can do for you; or rather for your young friend."_

Jim grinned. If Garcia only knew that his "young friend" had passed the century mark.... "Yes, and what would that be?" he answered as politely as possible.

_"I know some people who know some people,"_ Garcia began. _"These people know much about the Mayan civilization around the time of the gente de hadas. There is a function tomorrow evening; it is a formal affair. I have procured entrance for you both. Would you be interested?"_

"Yes, Mr. Garcia. Thank you very much. B'layr will be very grateful," Jim answered quickly.

"I will be grateful for what?" the elf asked, walking back to stand next to Jim.

_"Do you have tuxedoes, señor?_

"No, but I'm sure we could find some to rent," Jim assured him. "Where and when?"

Garcia gave the name and address of the event and Jim hung up the phone, smiling broadly at his mate.

"What? What is it, Jim? Come on, give!" B'layr urged, sensing something important was about to happen.

"We've been invited to some big shindig with the uppity-ups in the world of anthropology, Chief," Jim explained. "This might be our chance to get some real answers." He picked up the phone book, and then put it down in disgust. "It's all in Spanish," he said with a sigh. Picking up the phone, he dialed down to the front desk. "Yes, this is Jim Ellison in Room 4437. Could you recommend a good shop for renting a tuxedo?"

~oO0Oo~

"Lookin' good there, Imp." Jim smiled at his mate who was obviously uncomfortable in the formal attire.

B'layr tugged futilely at the forest green bow tie that matched the cummerbund circling his waist. "Men wear far too many layers of clothing," he complained. The tuxedo fit his slender frame nearly perfectly, considering that the tailor had very little time for a meticulous fitting session. In deference to the formal setting, B'layr had tied back his long hair, making sure the tips of his distinctive ears were tucked inside the curling strands.

Jim had chosen a vest of a deep sapphire blue to go under his jacket; the color complimenting the pale tint of his eyes. Both men held glasses of champagne. While Jim sipped occasionally on his, B'layr had decided that this form of fermented grapes was not to his liking. He carried the glass just to fit in, occasionally offering his mate a sip so that the glass slowly emptied.

"If we had had success at the university yesterday, we would not need to be here," B'layr sighed, resigned to an uncomfortable evening. "I wonder which of these men is Señor Fuentes?"

"You wish to speak with Dr. Fuentes?" A young woman walking past had overheard B'layr's question and stopped to help. "I can take you to him."

"Thank you! Thank you very much!" B'layr grinned widely and followed the woman across the room, Jim tagging along behind.

"Dr. Fuentes..." The woman approached a tall Latino man, probably in his late thirties, B'layr judged. "These gentlemen have been looking for you."

"B'layr Ellison," B'layr introduced himself, holding out his hand. "And this is Jim."

"Ellison," Jim added, shaking Fuentes's hand.

"Ah, yes. The anthropologist from Washington," Fuentes said, recognizing the names. "Pedro said you wished to speak to me. You have made a study of the _gente de hadas_?"

"Yes, sir," B'layr nodded. "I found this stone," he pulled the picture of the Garden Stone from his pocket, "in my garden. It had been there for untold years. It sparked my interest, and I started doing some research."

"Come, let us fill our plates from the bountiful buffet," Fuentes said, gesturing toward tables heavily laden with food. "And we may then sit and talk."

The three men gathered their meal and found an empty table. Once they were seated, Fuentes started the discussion. "So, tell me what you know. Not many people even know of the existence of these strange people."

"I cannot tell you much," B'layr hedged. "There was nothing at Rainier University that I could find, except to confirm that the stone was most likely Mayan in origin. Jim and I planned this trip here, in hope of learning more."

"And have you?" Fuentes asked.

"I have seen a few carvings and depictions in paintings at the Chichén Itzá site," B'layr told him. "And Señor Garcia told us a bit more—that these fairy people had been taken as spoils of war, that they spoke a strange language and apparently came from beyond the sea."

"That is a good start," Fuentes said, nodding. "But it is not all that is known. The _gente de hadas_ have fascinated me for many years, and I have made a study of them, such as I might."

"Anything you could add to what we know would be very helpful," B'layr said eagerly.

Jim sat quietly and ate his meal, leaving the talk to the two anthropologists. His attention was captured, nonetheless, by the story the doctor told.

"You are correct, as far as you go," Fuentes began. "The _gente de hadas_ were foreign to our soil. From where they came, no one is certain."

"That is what I am hoping to find out," B'layr interrupted. "But this is all I have to start."

"I can tell you a little more," Fuentes said, stopping to take a bite of his meal. "I have spent many years traveling from village to village collecting and gleaning information from the stories passed down by the Elders. The fairy people were not small and delicate as the name implies, but the size of a grown man. The group was all male; there were no women among them. They spoke a strange language and had ears that came to a point."

"Very interesting," B'layr said around a mouthful of food. He swallowed, and then continued. "That much I had already deduced from my own research. Is there more?"

"There is a legend that they possessed magical powers," Fuentes said, clearly disbelieving the tall tales he'd been told. "It is said they could see and hear a hundred times better than ordinary men. The warriors took them to war to be their scouts and sentries. It is also told they could smell or taste the smallest amount of poison in food, and as such were used as food tasters for the upper class, particularly the governor of the city."

At the mention of heightened senses, Jim's interest picked up. "Is there any proof of these heightened senses? A hundred times more sensitive seems a little outrageous to me."

"Si, señor. It is most likely an exaggeration," the doctor agreed. "I only have the stories of old men as proof, but the tales are consistent even among widely scattered villages." He turned to his food for several bites, and then looked up hesitantly. "There is one more thing.... But it is very hard to believe," he began.

"Anything," B'layr said eagerly, already buoyed by the information he had received from the doctor of anthropology.

"Well ... This is truly difficult to believe...." he repeated, taking a deep breath. "In times of war, when the warriors were away from their women for extended periods, they would sometimes take their pleasure with the male slaves in their possession." He paused, and B'layr looked on eagerly, already guessing what the doctor was going to say. "It is said that some few of the _gente de hadas_ got pregnant and carried the child to term—a full turn of the seasons."

"But they were all men," Jim said, pointing out the obvious, while secretly acknowledging the truth of the tale.

"That is why it is so impossible to believe, señor," Fuentes said with a sigh.

"Well, given that that part of the story is likely a fabrication," B'layr said, secretly bouncing with excitement at the discovery, "is there anything else? Anything that can tell us what happened to these people? Why did they disappear so suddenly? And why is there no written record of them?"

Fuentes put down his fork and patted his lips with his napkin before taking a sip of white wine. Setting the glass back on the table, he cleared his throat. "Corroborating stories from several villages say that the fairy people rose up against their captors one day and escaped to the north, taking with them their children and what wealth they could carry."

"Do the stories say **_where_** north, exactly?" Jim chimed in. "From here, 'north' is a large area."

Fuentes shook his head. "There are only bits and pieces. From what I could put together, they headed down the peninsula and across to the Pacific Ocean, and then up the coast to an area around Bahia Kino north of San Carlos. From there they took boats to what is now Baja California. It is assumed they continued to travel north along the coast, but I have found no sign or tale of them outside of this area. Does this help?"

B'layr crumpled his napkin and laid it on his plate, the smile on his face reaching ear to ear. "You have no idea," he said, standing and extending a hand to the doctor. "Thank you very much for your time." He turned to his mate, slapping Jim's shoulder. "Time to get moving, my heart. We have work to do."

As Jim rose and B'layr turned to nod one last time at Dr. Fuentes, the point of one ear slipped from its concealment beneath the elf's hair, giving the Latino anthropologist a brief flash of a walking legend before he quickly disappeared into the crowd. The doctor stood up, scanning the sea of tuxedoes for the strange young man, but found nothing. With a sigh, he got up to mingle with his colleagues, no longer certain whether or not his eyes had deceived him.

~oO0Oo~

B'layr couldn't shed the tuxedo quickly enough once they returned to the hotel. He stood naked in front of the sliding glass doors to the small deck that overlooked the hotel's swimming pool. As Jim approached behind him, B'layr turned around, his face flushed with excitement and his cock hard with arousal. "I cannot believe what we heard tonight! Jim, the _gente de hadas_ are our missing ancestors." The elf quivered with his excitement, like a bowstring strung too tightly.

Jim gathered his excited mate into his arms, feeling the heat of the healing sunburn combined with the fire of arousal. B'layr trembled as Jim's fingers trailed down his back. He stood on his toes and pressed in close as Jim's hand reached his buttocks, teasing the crack between the two round globes. His fingers scrabbled to undo the buttons of Jim's shirt, stripping him quickly so that they pressed flesh to flesh.

They tumbled onto the bed, a tangle of arms and legs. Hungry mouths peppered kisses and sought tender places to suckle and nip. Their need was so pressing that their completion came quickly, and they collapsed in a sweaty, sated heap.

Jim continued to press light kisses onto B'layr's neck and shoulder, stroking a hand over the long, damp curls that stuck to the elf's body in copper colored strands.

B'layr shifted so that he lay in alignment with Jim's body, facing his lover. Sated blue eyes opened and a smile of regret curved the elf's lips. "Had circumstances been otherwise, this mating would have produced a child," he sighed. "I wish I could give that to you, in celebration of this time."

Jim kissed the full lips, silencing them. "I'm sorry, my soul, for taking that from you. You have given me beautiful children and grandchildren; having you here with me is enough."

"Ahhh ... my heart..." B'layr whispered. "My love.... Make love to me again, slowly." He reached out to trace a finger down Jim's cheek to his throat, across his chest and abdomen to tease a cock already beginning to swell with interest. "Show me that I am enough."

The morning dawned with a golden-red light to bathe the two lovers still spooned together. During the night, while they slept, Jim's cock had finally slipped free from B'layr's passage and still pressed damply against the firm buttocks. The Sentry stirred, his motions waking his mate.

B'layr rolled over, gathering Jim into his arms and pressing his mouth against the willing lips. As the exploring tongue entered his mouth, Jim felt a stirring in his groin as his soulmate stoked the fire once more. Like the second time of the night before, this session was long and slow—each bringing the other to the edge over and over before the final joining ended in an explosive climax.

Panting from the powerful release, B'layr lay unmoving in his soulmate's arms until Jim sat up and began to make a move toward the bathroom. B'layr watched him with a languor he found hard to shake. He could hear the water running in the Jacuzzi tub and was tempted by the sound, but didn't make a move until his lover came to claim him and carry him to the bath.

After they had bathed, Jim got busy on the phone, while B'layr skimmed through the books he had purchased at the museum and made notes in his journal of the conversation with Dr. Fuentes. After nearly a half hour of repeated dialing, Jim finally achieved his goal. Coming to sit at the table next to his studious mate, he waited until he had B'layr's full attention.

"I've got us booked stand-by on a flight out of Merida to Cabo San Lucas this afternoon at two o'clock," Jim announced. "That should give us time to pack and check out, maybe grab some lunch."

"You may grab lunch," B'layr said, patting his hand against his stomach. "But I have eaten far too well here. I will wait."

"Your choice," Jim said with a shrug. His own metabolism was shouting for him to find something to eat. "I think I'll go hit the breakfast buffet before it's all gone. Can I bring you anything at all?"

"Perhaps a cup of coffee," B'layr suggested. "Sugar, no cream."

"Want to start packing while I'm gone?" Jim suggested.

B'layr nodded. "It should not take long. We did not bring much with us." He removed his glasses and pushed the chair back to stand. "Hurry back, my heart."

Jim left and B'layr began organizing their clothing, separating the clean from the dirty and packing each separately. By the time Jim returned with the coffee, the suitcases were ready to go.

~oO0Oo~

They were lucky enough to find seats on the flight to Cabo San Lucas. However, they were forced to sit in separate rows thanks to a booked flight and their stand-by status. B'layr frequently looked over his shoulder to check on Jim. He found flying more unsettling without his soulmate by his side. When they finally touched down at the airport, it was with great relief for the elf.

They bustled out of the terminal area, picked up their baggage and headed to the car rental desk. Jim had called ahead and reserved an SUV for their use, and they were soon on their way up the Baja peninsula.

"Where to, Chief? You're the guide," Jim said, traveling up the dusty desert road.

B'layr shook his head. "I hardly know where to start," he mused. "According to Dr. Fuentes, our people crossed the Gulf of California at its narrowest point—around Bahia Kino on the mainland to the Baja peninsula and headed north from there. He seems to think we will not have much luck beyond that point."

"So ... Do you want to head home? Give up?" Jim glanced sideways to observe his partner. B'layr was chewing on his lower lip, lost in thought.

"No. I do not want to give up," B'layr said. "But we will not find anything this far south. There is a tribe of Native Americans—the Kumiai—who live in northern Baja and southern California," he mused. "Maybe we can speak to some tribal Elders. Their people might have stories that date back to the coming of the _gente de hadas_."

"Sounds like a plan," Jim agreed. "But the drive up is going to take a couple of days. Got any ideas for a place we can spend the night?"

B'layr consulted the map in his lap. "Guerrero Negro is about halfway up the peninsula," he said. "And it is on the Pacific coast, so we should get some nice cooling breezes."

"Tired of the heat already, Imp?" Jim laughed, knowing his northern-bred mate preferred the shaded woodlands and milder temperatures of his mountain home.

"I could do with a little less heat and a little more shade, yeah," B'layr agreed, taking a long drink from the bottle of water he kept close to his side. Putting the water down, he began double-checking the map. "Guerrero Negro is also near the point where the elves made the crossing to Baja.... Wrong coast," he mused, "but close enough."

"Do you think you'll find any clues there?" Jim asked.

B'layr shrugged. "Hard to say. Maybe, but probably not. In any case, it will be a relief to stop for the night."

By evening, both men were exhausted by the heat and desert climate. Just north of the town of Guerrero Negro, they found the La Pinta Hotel and booked a room. Jim collapsed on the bed, spread eagle, and watched as his slightly more energetic mate cruised the small room, checking things out.

"You're making me tired just watching you," Jim said, patting the mattress. "Why don't you come here and lie down for a bit?"

"Jim ... there are cave paintings here, just outside of town," B'layr said excitedly, holding up the brochure. "We have to stop and take a look. And beaches," he continued, waving the colorful flyer in Jim's face. "There are some really isolated, desolate beaches in Guerrero Negro, just a short boat ride away." The implication of the elf's discovery was clear in the leering glance he gave his lover.

"Sounds like you'd like to spend a day or two here," Jim suggested. "That's fine with me. It's not like we're on a timetable or anything." Just then, his stomach chose to rumble loudly. "You about ready to eat something?"

B'layr took a moment to assess his condition and then nodded. "Yes, I believe I could eat tonight."

Jim hauled himself off the bed and stood up, stretching. "Well, let's go see what we can find."

Cruising the Boulevard Zapata, they finally decided on stopping at the Malarrimo Restaurant. They settled into a booth and picked up the menu.

"May I help you?" The men looked up as an older man, swathed in an apron and carrying an order book, came to stand beside their table. "My name is Enrique Achoy. I am the owner of this fine establishment."

B'layr smiled disarmingly at the man, pointing to the menu. "Can I get a salad? Something with a little meat, but mostly greens?"

Achoy nodded. "Si, señor; chicken or beef?"

"Um ... chicken," B'layr decided.

"Very good. And you, señor?" he asked, turning to Jim.

"I'll take the beef fajitas," Jim said, handing Achoy the two menus.

Achoy took the menus and nodded. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

B'layr looked up and nodded. "Yeah ... I heard there were some great beaches here, but you need a boat to get to them. Is there a boat rental nearby?"

"Si. Turn left out of the parking lot," the owner told them. "Then turn left again at the first light."

"What about the cave paintings?" B'layr continued excitedly.

"East of town, señor."

B'layr nodded his thanks. "Gracias."

Dinner passed quickly, and after a shower both men fell into bed, too tired to do more than snuggle into each other's arms.

~oO0Oo~

"Oh my God, Jim! Look at this!" B'layr's body practically hummed with excitement the next morning; every nerve tingled with energy. He pointed to the paintings on the walls of the shallow cave.

"They look like cave paintings," Jim said with a shrug.

"No, no ... Look closer," B'layr said, indicating one set of figures in particular. Pale skin tones and the hint of pointed ears set one group of natives apart from the others. "The _gente de hadas_!"

"I don't know, Babe," Jim said, leaning in to take a closer look. "That's pushing it a little. The differences between these figures and the others could be due to the fact they were painted at a later date or by a different artist."

"Come on, Jim ... look! Pointed ears, as plain as...."

"As the nose on your face? Or should I say your ears?" The comment won Jim a frustrated slap on the shoulder. He sobered and turned up the acuity of his vision. "All right. Yes. Okay," he agreed finally. "These are probably the elves. Easy enough to see why someone who wasn't actually looking for them might miss the subtle differences, though."

"I agree. They came ashore on the beaches of the Gulf of California, too, not the Pacific Ocean. Perhaps Dr. Fuentes did not think to look on this side of the peninsula."

"Or, he overlooked the subtle differences and missed the clues," Jim suggested.

"Either way," B'layr said, bouncing on the balls of his feet, "we know they were here. That is something. Tomorrow we can drive north and talk with the Kumiai."

"Are you about ready for that picnic lunch on some abandoned beach?" Jim asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

B'layr laughed and kissed Jim's cheek. "I could pass on the lunch," he said, "but I am more than ready for the beach."

They climbed into the SUV and headed toward the boat rental. Once there, they got directions to several secluded beaches.

"One can never be assured of complete privacy," the man warned him. "But this is not the tourist season, so chances are you will not be disturbed."

They took the boat and piloted it out to the most remote of the small islands dotting the area. Once there, Jim took out the picnic basket and blanket, and they found a spot shaded by a few small scrub trees.

"I think I will take a swim," B'layr announced, as Jim began to eat his lunch.

The Sentry watched with some amusement as his soulmate eagerly shed the few clothes he'd been forced to wear and ran across the sand toward the water. B'layr waded into the surf until he was about waist deep, and then took a graceful dive beneath the foam to surface farther out, beyond the incoming waves. Jim had to concentrate on his sight to see the tiny figure far out in the azure blue of the water. B'layr dove and surfaced repeatedly, and then with strong strokes swam parallel to the beach for about one hundred meters before turning back.

As he made his way closer to shore, B'layr finally let his feet touch down. He walked out of the foaming waves looking like some sea god emerging from his realm. His saturated hair hung to his mid-back in dark ringlets exposing the delicate points of his ears, making him look exotic and intoxicating. The pale color of his skin, lightly tanned now that the sunburn had mostly healed, glistened beneath a thin sheen of water making B'layr a vision of naked beauty. Jim could feel himself growing hard at the sight, all thought of his remaining meal lost in a hunger of another sort. He cleared the blanket of his lunch and began to shed his own clothes. As he watched, the elf walked back toward the small copse of trees. B'layr let his hand touch his penis, stirring the organ quickly to fullness. By the time he reached the blanket, both elf and man were panting with desire.

Jim gathered the damp, cool body to him, hearing the rapid patter of B'layr's heart as his lover pressed against him. They rolled onto the blanket, kissing passionately as they began to make love on the secluded beach.

B'layr rolled Jim over and pulled him up onto his knees. It wasn't often that the elf took the top position, but the thrill of discovery at the painted caves coupled with an invigorating swim in the ocean had combined to make him incredibly horny. He parted the round cheeks and leaned down to run a tongue along the sensitive tissue of Jim's perineum, teasing the tight little hole before darting in and out several times.

"B'lllayrrrr!" The name was dragged from Jim's throat in a strangled groan as he bucked back against the invading tongue.

His lover pulled back, quickly preparing the tight opening with his fingers. Looking around for something to use as lube, B'layr picked up the remains of the sandwich, wiping as much of the mayonnaise from the bread as he could and spreading it over his leaking cock.

"Condiments as lube..." The comment came as a soft, bubbling laugh as the elf positioned himself at Jim's hips and pushed inside, burying himself to the hilt in one smooth move.

Jim didn't much care that he smelled like a deli, as B'layr began to move with quick, hard thrusts, pounding into his center with a strength that surprised his larger mate. Once the edge of his desire was blunted slightly, B'layr slowed his strokes, making sure to apply pressure to the strange gland that gave his mate such incredible pleasure. Jim bucked beneath him, moaning and crying out his name as he ground back against his lover.

B'layr rose up, arching his back and tipping his face to the sky as his final thrusts brought about an orgasm that crashed against him with the same force as the waves upon the shore. He shouted Jim's name to the heavens before collapsing on top of the larger man.

Jim rolled over, gathering the spent body into his arms. "That was incredible, Sweetheart," he whispered.

B'layr could barely blink, yet he was aware of the rod of flesh still poking into his thigh. "Uh-hmmm..." he agreed, softly. "But we need to take care of this." He reached a hand between their pressed bodies to wrap his fingers around Jim's erection.

The Sentry thought to protest, amazingly satisfied by B'layr's internal performance, but the strong hand squeezing his penis brought his focus forward. He began to move his hips, thrusting into the fist that held him until the pressure was suddenly gone. Before he could protest the loss, moist lips wrapped around the glans, suckling the sweet pre-come that leaked from the tip of the aroused organ. B'layr released the head, leaving the soft breezes off the ocean to delightfully tingle the moist flesh as he languidly drew his tongue up the underside of the shaft. He twirled his tongue around the tip, and then stroked back down to suckle briefly at the root where the shaft joined the balls.

Jim bucked his hips as his cock jerked involuntarily at the touch. A grinding motion accompanied his moans as he tried to get B'layr to apply more pressure to the sensitive area. Instead, the elf dipped lower, sucking first one testicle, and then the other, into the warm cavern of his mouth.

The twitching of Jim's penis, coupled with the tenseness in his body, clued his soulmate that the end was very near. Licking his way back up the shaft, B'layr swallowed the organ, applying suction until his mate's climax erupted into his mouth. The elf swallowed quickly, lapping up the last drops of semen before allowing the spent cock to slip from his mouth. He trailed kisses up Jim's abdomen and chest, until finally reaching the parted lips.

Jim's last thought before slipping into a sated post-coital sleep was that he wasn't going to let his lover become toast again. He pulled the blanket around their naked bodies as B'layr cuddled close in his embrace.

The sun was setting in a golden haze when they finally awoke. A brief dip in the surf cleaned the remnants of their lovemaking from their bodies and they dressed quickly, wanting to make the boat trip back before complete darkness fell.

The next day, they were back on the highway, headed toward the United States with the town of Tecate, Mexico, their intended stop.

They pulled into the small town in the late afternoon and booked a room at the Rancho La Puerta before going out to stroll the sidewalks. The town was not a big tourist city, with the destitute natives of the area living side-by-side with the bustling economy of downtown.

B'layr stopped to talk to several of the Elders he encountered using the halting Spanish he'd picked up during their stay in Mexico. It was enough to locate a nearby tribe of Kumiai Indians, which the couple decided to visit the next day.

Passing the shops, B'layr couldn't resist tugging Jim over to check out the soft leather moccasins of one native vendor. "Please, Jim," he begged, tugging on his mate's shirtsleeve. "These are beautifully crafted. I could not do better myself."

Jim noted the tone of longing in his soulmate's voice. For many years, B'layr had been a tanner. His skill with leather was unsurpassed in the Ten Tribes. With the birth of their children and the merging of the tribes, B'layr had given up the position to concentrate on earning his university degrees. While his scholarly pursuits had given him much satisfaction and pride, he still sometimes longed for the roots of a more simple life, when tanning and weaving were valued skills.

"Sure, why not?" Jim agreed, pulling out his wallet. Both of them picked out a pair of the supple leather shoes, with B'layr eyeing a second pair with intricate beadwork. Jim reached over and grabbed them, too, much to B'layr's delight.

"Ahhh.... These are great!" B'layr declared, slipping off his Nikes to put on a pair of the moccasins. He wrapped his arms around his mate and kissed him soundly. "Thank you!"

They were up early the next morning, eager to be on the road before the day began to heat up. It was a short drive along the road between Tecate and Tijuana to the home of the chief of the local Kumiai tribe.

" _Gente de hadas_ ," the old man mused, shaking his head.

"I do not know what you might call them here," B'layr explained. "They would have come from the south, pale-skinned, with points on their ears and speaking a strange language."

The chief reached out to tuck dark strands of burnished copper behind B'layr's ear. "Like this?" he asked, brushing his fingertips across the delicate point before dropping his hand back to his lap.

B'layr blushed furiously at being caught. Disclosure was not a part of their plans for this trip, but the Elder simply smiled. "Um ... yes," he finally replied, getting over his initial fear of discovery when the chief said nothing more about it.

"I remember stories from when I was very young," he said. "But the men of these stories possessed magical powers, and I did not believe them."

"Magical powers?" Jim asked, crooking an eyebrow at the chief.

"Yes, they could see and hear game that no one else could see or hear. They hunted successfully when others went hungry. It is said they could communicate with each other over vast distances, even when each was out of sight of the other. They had incredible powers to heal. It was said they were immortal." The chief stopped to snuff out the cigarette he'd been smoking, much to B'layr's relief. "No man could do these things."

"But they were not men," B'layr started to explain.

"Then what were they? What are you?" the observant chieftain wondered.

B'layr fidgeted, looking between the chief and his mate. Jim shrugged his shoulders. "It's your call, Imp. Tell him what you feel comfortable telling."

With a nod, B'layr took a deep breath. "They were elves, as am I." He let out the breath he was holding and watched the old man.

"That would explain much," the chief said thoughtfully. "You search for your people, for your roots," he astutely observed.

"Yes! Yes, that is it!" B'layr said, nodding furiously. "I wish to find my origins; the origins of my people. So far, my search has led me several thousand miles. I fear there will be more to follow before my search is ended."

The chief nodded. "Yes, I fear that may be so, but I can give you no more information than that they may have passed through here many hundreds of years ago. Many of the tales of our tribe have taken on the status of legend. We no longer know what may have been true or what may have been stories made up to entertain the young."

"I thank you for your time," B'layr said, rising from his chair. He motioned for Jim to get up, before extending a hand to the chieftain. The elderly man shook it solemnly.

"Walk with the spirits, Ancient One," the chief said as Jim and B'layr made their way out of his house.

"What did he mean by that?" Jim asked, once they were out of earshot of the chief.

"'Walk with the spirits'," B'layr mused. "'Walk with the spirits...'" Suddenly, his face lit up. "Jim! Do you remember when you took me to Cascade and the doctors performed a hysterectomy?"

"God, how could I forget?" Jim said, running a hand down his face and frowning. "I didn't know how to tell you.... It was hell."

"And when you **_did_** tell me, I zoned on you. Remember?" the elf prodded.

Jim thought back to that dreadful day when their world had fallen apart at their feet. He nodded.

"Jim, I walked in the spirit world that day," B'layr explained. "I spoke to a Shaman of the Ancients, and he called me 'Seeker'." He reached out to cup Jim's jaw with the palm of his hand. "I am still a Seeker, Love. I am seeking to find our origins. I am seeking more of our people. They are out there. I know it!"

"That's all well and good," Jim said, turning his head slightly to kiss the palm that rested on his cheek. "But you entered the spirit realm then because you were in such a deep state of shock. How do you intend to do it now?"

B'layr considered the question, sifting through the stores of knowledge he had accumulated during his studies of anthropology. "There is a tribe just north of here," he began slowly, "the Luiseño. They have a ritual called 'Chinigchinich' where they drink a concoction called 'tolache' to visit the spirits."

"And you think I'm going to let you go drinking some... What the hell is that drink, anyway?" Jim fumed, unhappy with his mate's suggestion.

"It is a derivative of datura," B'layr explained. "It is a hallucinogen."

"Great. Just great," Jim sighed. "No."

"No? What do you mean, no?" B'layr asked flashing a disbelieving look at his mate.

"I mean no, I'm not going to let you drink some damn hallucinogenic drug so that you can get high and visit with your 'spirits'." Jim had stopped walking and stood with his arms crossed over his chest. "It's too dangerous."

"It is not your decision to make," B'layr said, mirroring Jim's stance. "The trail is running cold, and if we are to advance further, I must speak with the Ancients again."

"I won't allow it. No." Jim grabbed B'layr by the arm and began to steer him back the car. "We're going home."

"We will stop and visit the Luiseño," B'layr insisted, climbing into the passenger side of the SUV and slamming the door. "They are at Mount Palomar out of Oceanside, north of San Diego. Go!" He pointed forward, and then settled in his seat as Jim jammed the gas pedal, roaring out of the small settlement.

They drove in silence until Jim cleared the San Diego traffic. The Sentry turned to his mate, who was still stewing with anger over Jim's proprietary treatment. "I'm sorry, Sweetheart. I don't want to fight with you."

B'layr sighed and turned to face Jim. "I do not wish to fight, either," he said. "But this is important to me. It is important enough to make me leave my home and my family ... our grandchildren. It is important enough to get me on a plane and traveling to a foreign country." He sighed, deflating a little. Picking up his bottled water, he took a sip. "I will be careful, I promise."

"I just don't like you taking drugs," Jim sighed.

"I am not unfamiliar with herbs and roots, with natural drugs, or with hallucinogens," B'layr informed him. "I know how to make the infusions—how to make them safe. I am sure the Luiseño people know as well."

"You know I'm going to let you do this, don't you?" Jim asked with a sigh and a chuckle. He never could say no to his beloved. "My soul, just be careful. I would take my life if anything happened to you."

"No! Please, you cannot!" B'layr was aghast at his mate's statement. "It **_is_** possible to survive the death of a soulmate," he reminded his lover. "Even to find love again—witness A'mara and L'anin. A'mara was resigned to no longer being mated and to never Bearing a child. And look ... He is now a Sire and shall soon find himself carrying an elfling." B'layr smiled at the thought. He was pleased that his son and his best friend had found the bond of soulmating. Like B'layr, L'anin had found not only his soul's mate, but also his soul's love in A'mara. "Your family needs you," he argued. "Besides, I plan to return to this world after walking in the other. My time has not yet come." He stopped speaking to watch Jim. His mate frowned, smiled, then frowned again and pulled the car off onto the shoulder of the road.

"Jim? What are you doing?" B'layr asked as his mate set the brake and released his seatbelt. The elf was soon smothered beneath 170 pounds of lean muscle. Long arms enveloped him while a hot mouth sought and devoured his own.

Kissing his way around to B'layr's ear, Jim's soft breath puffed into the narrow canal as he spoke. "Don't you leave me. Don't you **_ever_** leave me!"

"No, my heart," B'layr replied softly, wrapping his arms around the distraught man. "I never will."

They stayed entwined for several minutes while Jim gathered himself together. When they finally separated, B'layr captured the tear-stained face between his hands and looked intently into the pale blue eyes of his mate. "Come with me. Walk the spirit plane by my side."

Jim shook his head, freeing it from the gentle grasp. "I can't do that," he apologized. "There's no telling what that stuff would do to my senses. Besides," he continued, leaning forward to press one last kiss against the lush lips, "you're the Shaman."

"Although the blood of Shamans flows in my veins, I am no Shaman," B'layr said in an echo of a long-ago statement. "I am an Anthropologist."

"You are a pain in the ass," Jim said, finally withdrawing and ruffling the silken curls.

B'layr chuckled, acknowledging the fact, as Jim pulled back onto the highway. They turned east onto Highway 76 when they reached Oceanside, and headed toward Mount Palomar, and whatever awaited them there.

~oO0Oo~

"We do not usually allow outsiders into our ceremonies," the Elder said. "But you have come on a sacred Quest, and I cannot turn you down. I will give you to our Puhmutevi—our keeper of ceremonies. He will guide you."

The elf and his mate followed the official to a small campfire under a black, velvet sky filled with millions of twinkling stars and sat to wait.

The Puhmutevi mixed the drink, taking his time to make sure the infusion was strong enough to bring on the vision, but not so strong as to prevent the Seeker from returning. B'layr settled himself inside the loose circle of Jim's legs, allowing his lover's arms to wrap around his waist. This was his safe place, his anchor. He accepted the cup of tolache from the Elder and waited patiently as the man recited the ritual prayers and incantations. Then, bringing the cup to his lips, he tipped it and drank the contents in one draught.

Within minutes, B'layr's head began to swim and the world wavered. He rested his head back onto Jim's shoulder and stared up at the myriad stars twinkling in the night.

>>>>*<<<<

"You have returned, Seeker," the Ancient said, stepping out from the deep blue recesses of the old growth forest where he made his home.

B'layr turned his face from the stars to look at his Elder. "Yes. I seek our people," B'layr explained. "I wish to find more of our kind, to know of our origin and our journey."

"You know much of the journey already," the Ancient replied. "You have learned of our subservience, of our torture and escape."

"But where did we come from? Where did the _gente de hadas_ escape **_to_**?" B'layr begged an answer.

"North," came the response. "To the lands of the midnight sun; across the narrow waters." A wolf trotted out of the undergrowth to nudge at the Ancient. The elf rested a hand on the animal's head and smiled. "You are the Seeker ... seek and find." With that, he turned and disappeared into the forest.

"No!" B'layr cried. "Wait!"

>>>>*<<<<

B'layr's head lolled against Jim's shoulder. "No! Wait!" His voice was like the wail of a child pulled forcefully from his mother's grasp.

Jim turned his lover around to face him and gathered him close, stroking the long hair and whispering into his ear. "It's all right, Sweetheart. Shhh ... shhh ... Everything is fine. Shhh ... Come back, my soul. Come back to me."

B'layr's eyes blinked rapidly as he came out of the trance. Grabbing Jim's shirt with vise-like fingers he buried his face in his soulmate's shoulder, his body shaking with sobs. When the tears eventually stopped, B'layr pulled away, looking up into the concerned face of his lover.

Jim brushed away the remaining tears, cradling B'layr's face in his hands. "What's wrong, Sweetheart? Why the tears?"

B'layr sniffled and wiped at his nose. "I do not know.... The vision was—intense."

"What did you see? Did you learn anything?" Jim prodded gently, trying to draw out his upset mate and get him talking.

"I-I am sorry...." B'layr apologized, still sniffing back the remnants of his tears. "It must have been the tolache.... T-The vision was so ... real. I was there, again, Jim. I stood with the Ancient and spoke with him."

"What did he say?" Jim continued to probe, gathering B'layr back against his chest.

B'layr gratefully gave in to the greater strength and rested against Jim's shoulder. "He did not tell me much; only to go north to where the sun does not set, and to cross the narrow waters. Do you know what that means?"

Jim thought a moment. "Alaska; the Bering Strait..." he finally replied. "Apparently your ancestors didn't originate on this continent."

"Then we must go north," B'layr said. "But first, I should like to stop at home. It is hard being away from our family for so long."

Jim nodded. They had left on their journey almost immediately after K'tiri had given birth. They had left behind three children and two grandchildren. After their recent adventures, even Jim felt the pull to return to their forest home.

~oO0Oo~

The flight home had been blessedly uneventful. After the completion of the Chinigchinich ritual with the Luiseño Puhmutevi, Jim had turned the rented SUV back south to San Diego and booked passage on the first flight that would take them home to Cascade.

Jim had parked the truck at the old campsite, and he and B'layr now walked through the woods hand-in-hand, eager to spend some time with their family again. As they delved deeper into the forest, Jim stopped more frequently to scan the area with his senses.

"What is the problem, my heart?" B'layr asked after the fifth time Jim had stopped. He turned to face the Sentry, who was searching through the thick old growth with both sight and hearing.

After a moment, Jim paused and turned his attention to his mate. "Nothing. It's nothing," he said with a sigh.

"You are upset," B'layr observed. "Why would you be upset over nothing?"

"Because," Jim began, searching his own emotions for the answer. "Because there ought to be something—some patrol, hunters, **_something_**."

"Perhaps they hunt further north today," B'layr suggested, squeezing the hand he held. "We will be home soon, my heart. Our answers will be there."

As they approached their cabin, L'anin appeared to greet them. "Mother! Sire!" He strode forward purposefully. "We did not expect to see you for quite some time yet. You have been gone less than a moon. Is there no hope for your quest?"

"There is much hope," B'layr said, walking up to wrap his son in his arms. "But we must head north, and I desired to stop at home first."

"You will tell us all about it before you leave again?" L'anin asked.

"Surely," B'layr agreed.

"Where is everyone?" Jim asked, still not sensing more than a handful of heartbeats in the vicinity.

"They are on work duty," L'anin said with a grin. "K'tiri thought it would be good for all the members of the combined tribes to have wintering places as comfortable as ours. All of our able-bodied have gone to build more long houses."

"So why are you here?" Jim asked. "And why, for heaven's sake, aren't you on patrol?"

"The camp is safe," L'anin assured him. "I patrol it."

"Has A'mara gone to help the work parties?" B'layr asked, assuming L'anin had stayed home to care for his infant son.

"No. He is the reason I stay," L'anin answered. He gestured toward the cabin before turning to walk in that direction, followed by his parents. "I have good news ... and bad," he said. "A'mara is with child...."

"That is **_wonderful_** news!" B'layr said, launching himself at his son and wrapping the elf in his arms.

L'anin circled his own arms around his Bearer, returning the hug. "But he is ill," he added when B'layr had stopped squeezing. He turned the knob and swung open the door. Inside, A'mara lay tangled in the sheets, looking distinctly unhappy.

"What's the matter?" Jim asked, looking between L'anin and A'mara. B'layr had already slipped past and gone to sit on the edge of the bed beside his old friend.

"He has the sickness, nothing more," L'anin sighed. "But it is worse for A'mara. He is old for Bearing his first."

"Old?" Jim scoffed. "He can't be more than..."

"One hundred and four," came a soft voice from the bed. A'mara smiled at his friend's soulmate, as B'layr wiped his brow with a damp cloth from the nightstand.

"I can make you some tea," B'layr offered, running a quick physical check on the pregnant elf. "There are some herb combinations that K'tan used for me that helped greatly."

"That will not be necessary," A'mara answered. "L'anin has learned the herb lore well. The sickness will not last long."

"When did you conceive?" B'layr asked, knowing it had to be very recently.

"The night you left on your Quest with J'anin," A'mara answered. "L'anin was both excited for you and upset by your leaving. I comforted him." The elf grinned, looking across the room to where his soulmate had lifted A'mere from his crib and was now nursing the infant.

"I am glad that he has you," B'layr responded sincerely. "If there is anything I can do to ease your discomfort, tell me."

"There is one thing..." A'mara hesitated, looking between his friend and the stern ex-chieftain of the Wolf Tribe.

"Name it," B'layr encouraged, squeezing his friend's hand.

"I wish for the Blessing of the family." A'mara's glance returned to Jim, who looked distinctly uncomfortable. "I know you abolished the ritual Blessing, but it is still used at the discretion of the Bearer...."

Jim was shaking his head. "No. No ... I won't have sex with anyone other than B'layr," he said.

The elf in question stood and walked over to his mate, taking his hand and lifting it to his lips. "And I would not share you," B'layr agreed. "But this is different—this is a Blessing."

"I don't care," Jim argued, getting more upset. "It's ... It's ... barbaric. I won't do it."

B'layr glanced back at A'mara, who was watching and listening to the disagreement. The elf looked lost, hurt ... like his hope had been ripped from him.

"My heart..." B'layr pulled Jim close, wrapping one arm around his waist, while the other caressed his face. "Your seed gave A'mara his soulmate. Without you, he would not now Bear your grandchild, a potential Sentry of the Tribe. A request for a Blessing should not be denied."

"You're not..." Jim began, looking down into the deep blue of his mate's eyes. "You're not planning to participate, are you?"

"After all these years ... do you not know me better than that?" B'layr sighed. "He is my friend, our son's soulmate. Of course I intend to honor his request, as should you." Jim frowned, looking across the room to where A'mara anxiously watched. B'layr patted his cheek, bringing Jim's focus back to him. "It will not harm you, or our relationship, to do this thing."

"I don't know," Jim said, hesitantly. "I-It just doesn't feel right."

"Do not force me to convince you," B'layr threatened. "You know how important the Blessing ritual was for me."

Jim shook his head in wonder. "You'd withhold...? You wouldn't...?"

B'layr had backed off, nearer to the bed where A'mara waited and crossed his arms, looking sternly at his stubborn mate. "I did not say it would be easy, or without cost," B'layr admitted. "But our traditions are important to me. You have stood most of them on their ear, but in this you will comply."

"Just us? Just the family?" Jim asked, aghast at the implication that B'layr would withhold sexual favors unless he went along with the request.

"Just the three of us," B'layr said, nodding. "There need not be a platform or public witness. We three shall be the witnesses. As eldest, I shall go first. Then you, J'anin, followed by L'anin as youngest and soulmate."

Jim finally nodded. "I suppose, but I-I ... I don't know if I can..."

"I will help you," B'layr promised, smiling at his flustered mate. Slowly, he peeled off his clothing until he stood naked at the foot of the bed. A few gentle strokes had him hard and ready. Just watching the sensual show was making Jim aroused.

B'layr pulled back the covers and spooned in behind A'mara, wrapping his arms around the elf and peppering his shoulder with light kisses. "For the good of the Tribe; for the health of the Bearer; for the life of the unborn..." He buried himself inside A'mara and began to rock as he thrust gently. He felt his climax growing quickly, threatening to overwhelm him. With a grunt and a cry, he came, blessing A'mara's womb with his seed.

Jim watched, his eyes fixed solely on his mate. His own arousal had become painful as he watched the erotic dance before him. He ached for his soulmate, needing him more than he ever felt he had before. Seeing B'layr with another man—another elf—stoked the fires of his desire. He needed to claim what was his. He stripped quickly and climbed into the bed with the two elves.

B'layr felt the hard rod of flesh pressing against his ass, demanding entry. He sat up and turned to look at Jim. "Not now, my heart. Close your eyes and pretend it is me." He climbed out from between A'mara and his mate, and encouraged Jim to move closer.

The Sentry had never been a part of a Blessing ceremony other than those with his own mate. The joining felt awkward and wrong, as if he was betraying a promise. He closed his eyes and entered the channel, which was already prepared with the lube of his mate's semen. He was already so close to his climax, that it took only a few thrusts to complete the task. "My God ... B'lllayrrr!" he cried out as his seed shot out in pulsing bursts.

B'layr was waiting beside the bed when Jim rolled over. There were tears in Jim's eyes. B'layr reached out a hand and pulled his mate from the bed, leading him across the room to the large king-sized bed that was their own. "You did a great service to A'mara and the Tribe," B'layr said, praising his mate. "It is now time to be rewarded for your gift."

As L'anin took his turn in his soulmate's bed, Jim felt the stirrings of desire begin once more in his groin. B'layr washed Jim clean, and then handed him the cloth so that he could do the same for B'layr. The elf arched into the touch, more than ready for another round of lovemaking. "It is good to be home," he sighed.

B'layr was not the first to wake from their unscheduled nap following an afternoon of lively sex. L'anin was up, tending to something over the fire in the fireplace. The stew smelled delicious, and reminded the elf that he had not eaten recently. He climbed from the bed, careful not to wake Jim, who was still dozing. A'mara also slept, looking content.

"Will you be staying long, Mother?" L'anin asked, keeping his voice low. "K'tiri misses you more than she will admit. As a new mother herself, she wishes sometimes for your wisdom."

"We must continue on," B'layr said a little sadly. "It is a blessing to be home. I have missed this place more than I believed I could in so short a time, but there is much left to do. K'tiri is wise for one so young—she will find her way. And," he continued with a wink, "she has her older brother."

L'anin chuckled. "I have precious little more experience at mothering than K'tiri," he reminded his Bearer.

"But A'mere is healthy and strong," B'layr argued, watching the infant in the crib as he waved his arms and cooed with delight. "You have done well."

"A'mara could use your support," L'anin continued. "He has wanted a child of his own since he lost his first soulmate, but now that he Bears, he finds the task more difficult than he imagined. He could use your experience and knowledge."

"Mine?" B'layr said with a chuckle. "Do you not remember the stories I have told you about your own birth? Do you not remember the birth of your brother and sister? Or the three miscarriages? Your experience, or that of K'tiri, would be far more encouraging than anything I could tell."

"I do not wish for you to leave again," L'anin finally admitted after a few moments of silence. He stirred the boiling stew as he watched the face of his Bearer.

B'layr sighed and cast down his eyes before looking up once more to capture the blue-green gaze of his firstborn. "Nothing is more precious to me than family," he admitted. "But I go to find our greater family. I cannot give up the search now that the Ancients have spoken to me again from the spirit plane. I must find them, so that we can be reunited, if only in spirit."

"When must you go?"

"I would prefer to leave soon. Perhaps in the morning," B'layr answered. "I do not wish for the others to find me here. That they are gone now is a blessing. We can slip away without fanfare or delay, and return home all the more quickly."

"What's cooking?" A rumpled Jim climbed from the bed to come sit beside his soulmate and son. "Smells good."

"The stew is ready," L'anin announced. "We should eat."

"What about A'mara?" Jim asked looking over at the still-sleeping elf.

L'anin glanced over at his mate, his face softening as he smiled gently. "He is content. For now, rest is more important than food. There is enough; he can eat when he wakes." He carried the pot of stew to the table and gathered bowls from the cupboard.

"I was just telling L'anin," B'layr said, turning to Jim, "that we must leave soon—perhaps in the morning."

"We don't have to rush off," Jim countered. "Our ancestors aren't going anywhere. If you'd like to stay..."

"No, I think we had best be going," B'layr said, noting the disappointed look on his son's face. "I am afraid that if we do not go soon, we will find ourselves unable to leave. When lunch is finished, I plan to do some research." He reached for the loaf of home-baked bread and tore off a piece, dipping it into the savory gravy of the stew. "Jim," he said, when he had finally swallowed, "perhaps you should call the airline and make reservations?"

"I doubt it would make much difference," Jim replied, "if I call now or we just show up tomorrow. Either way, we'll be flying on stand-by."

B'layr sighed. "So be it. We need to keep moving."

After lunch, Jim fired up the generator and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. B'layr booted up his computer and logged on through his wireless connection via the cell phone. He was soon hunched over the small screen, reading furiously.

"What ya got there, Imp?" Jim asked, reading over B'layr's shoulder. "Ah, the Bering Strait and the land bridge. Do you think your—our—ancestors came across the bridge?"

"Not likely," B'layr muttered, still reading. "The Bering Land Bridge formed during the end of the Pleistocene, between 20,000 and 25,000 years ago. It was during the Ice Age, when gigantic continental glaciers consumed so much of the world's water, that ocean levels were more than three hundred feet lower than they are today." He turned to look up at his lover. "That was far too long ago, even given that the land bridge continued to exist until about 10,500 years ago. Our records do not show a sign of elves on this continent until, at best, a thousand years ago."

He stood up to pace the room, back and forth between his desk and the bed. As was routine with B'layr when he slipped into his teaching mode, his hands flew in front of him as he spoke.

"Besides, the evidence all points to the elves suddenly appearing on the Yucatan coast and migrating **_north_**. There is nothing in the records, such as they are, to indicate that our people migrated across the land bridge and traveled south down the coast to Mexico." B'layr stopped in front of Jim, who grasped him by the shoulders and planted a kiss on his still open mouth.

"Whoa!" B'layr laughed when Jim finally came up for air. "I did not know a little history lesson was going to make you horny."

"It didn't," Jim corrected. "You did. I love the look you get when you turn all professorial on me. You should have been a teacher."

"I was," B'layr reminded him. "I taught our children."

"That you did. That you did..." Jim said, laughing. "Okay, then. If our people didn't cross the land bridge, **_why_** are we interested?"

"Because the Ancient mentioned crossing the narrow waters," B'layr explained. "He could have only meant the Bering Strait. Perhaps our people didn't **_come_** from that direction, but it is the shortest route for us to travel to find them."

"So we're headed for Siberia?" Jim asked for clarification. At B'layr's nod, he sighed. "Good thing it's almost summer...."

~oO0Oo~

The flight from Anchorage to the Cape Prince of Wales on the Bering Strait was relatively short. They bumped down on the airstrip used by the former Aircraft Warning Service Station and taxied to a stop. B'layr, who found the trip in the small twin-engine plane not to his liking, was anxious to climb out and get his feet back on the ground.

"Ohhh..." The elf wrapped his arms around his stomach and stood slightly bent over as Jim tipped the pilot and waved down the driver of the Jeep who would take them into the village of Wales.

"You all right there, Chief?" Jim asked, after getting the attention of their driver. "You don't look so good."

"I am not feeling well," B'layr admitted before turning his head and throwing up on the concrete runway.

Jim wrapped his arms around his mate and held the long hair back until the elf had finished emptying his stomach of his most recent meal.

"Your friend okay?" the driver of the Jeep asked, stepping up to the couple.

"He'll be okay in a minute," Jim assured the man. "He's not used to flying in small planes."

The driver chuckled. "We get that all the time; you'd be surprised. Just come hop on in whenever you're ready." He walked back over to the vehicle to give the two men a little privacy.

"You okay now?" Jim asked, fishing a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe the spittle from B'layr's lips.

The elf leaned heavily into his support, resting his head against Jim's chest. "Yeah, I will be fine in a minute."

Jim wrapped his arms around the elf and cradled him in his embrace until B'layr planted two palms against his chest and pushed away.

Taking a deep breath, B'layr let it out slowly as a long sigh. "We had better get going," he said, turning toward the Jeep.

Jim hurried behind him, climbing into the backseat of the Jeep next to his partner. "How far is it to the village?"

"Just a few miles," the driver assured him. "Do you plan to stay long in Wales?" he asked.

"No." Jim shook his head, which the driver noted from his rearview mirror. "We'd like to get a plane or helicopter out as soon as possible."

"Where are you headed?"

"Anadyr, in Siberia," B'layr filled in.

"Ah...." their driver nodded. "You can also reach the area by ferry, if you have a problem flying," he added.

B'layr shook his head, still looking a little queasy from his flight. "I think a helicopter ride would be better. I am already seasick enough as it is."

"If you suffer from motion sickness, sir, I have something that can help." The driver rummaged in his pocket and pulled out a bottle of Dramamine. The elf took the bottle and began reading the fine print. "Before you leave for Anadyr, take one or two," the man suggested. "You can keep that. I have more."

"Thank you," B'layr said, pocketing the medication.

Jim wrapped an arm around his mate, pulling him close. B'layr took the opportunity to rest his head against Jim's chest, comforted by the hand that stroked absently at his hair. By the time they arrived in Wales, B'layr's stomach had settled. They climbed out of the Jeep and stretched their limbs.

"You boys got a place to stay?" their driver asked. "Wales isn't much of a tourist town. We don't have the amenities of Anchorage or Nome." Jim shook his head at the question. "You're welcome to spend the night at my place. Nothing fancy, but you can sack out on the couch."

"We appreciate the offer," Jim began, "but..." B'layr nudged Jim in the ribs with his elbow and gave him a pleading look. "But, we'd, uh ... be happy to take you up on your hospitality," he finished lamely.

"In that case, I suspect we ought to be properly introduced; name's Jack." Jack stuck out his hand.

Jim accepted and shook the proffered hand. "Jim ... and this is B'layr," he said, indicating his partner.

B'layr nodded. "We really appreciate the offer," he added. "We had not thought far enough ahead to check out lodging in the area."

"Well, you're in luck ... because I also happen to have a little helio business. I can fly you to Anadyr tomorrow, if that's where you want to go."

"That would be great," Jim said, slapping the man on the back.

"Climb back in, then," said Jack. Once they were all settled, he took off toward the west, driving over a gravel road rough with potholes. "Pardon the condition of the road. With the freezes and thaws we get here, it's hard to keep up with the maintenance."

Two bumpy miles later, they pulled up in front of a small clapboard house with a few scraggly trees out front and river rocks instead of a lawn. "Don't have time to keep up a yard," Jack said by way of apology as his two guests followed him up the walk to the house. "It isn't much, but it's home." He threw open the door and stood aside while Jim and B'layr entered.

"Nice," B'layr commented looking around the cozy home. The worn furniture was clean and well cared for, being covered in a variety of colorful blankets woven by the native Inuit Eskimos. "These blankets are very beautiful; the craftsmanship is superb."

"Bought those from the locals," Jack told him. "You talk like you know weaving."

B'layr nodded, fingering a blanket of red, black and gray wool. "It is a hobby of mine, when there is time."

"You like to hunt," Jim commented, looking at the racks of guns and the few trophy heads Jack had mounted on the walls.

"I go out occasionally," Jack admitted. "Only for the meat, though. I've got some great caribou steaks I could fix us for dinner."

"Sounds good," Jim said. "But maybe we'd better talk money before we get much farther along here. What are we going to owe you for the night's food and lodging, and tomorrow's trip into Siberia?"

"Oh, two-fifty should cover it," Jack said, rummaging through the freezer for the steaks.

Jim pulled a roll of cash from his pocket and counted out two hundred and fifty dollars, in fifty-dollar bills. "There you go. I'm more comfortable paying up front."

Jack scooped the money from the table where Jim had tossed it and stuffed it in his pocket. "You two make yourselves comfortable. I got satellite TV, if you'd like to watch something." He then went about busying himself in the kitchen, preparing their meal.

B'layr felt restless, and once Jim was settled in front of the TV channel surfing for sports, he got up and went into the kitchen. "Let me help," he said, sorting through the vegetables Jack had gotten from the refrigerator.

"Heck, no. You're a guest. Go sit down with your friend. I'll let you know when dinner is ready," Jack said, trying to shoo B'layr from the kitchen.

"Have you tried rubbing the meat with sage?" B'layr suggested, ignoring his host's protests and rummaging through the cupboards for the herbs and spices. "I know a great recipe to fix the carrots—a little dill..."

"You're a pushy one, aren't you?" Jack asked with a hint of laughter in his voice.

"Jim has never disputed that," B'layr said, chuckling. "Just ask him. He will tell you I usually get my way."

"It's true." Jim's voice floated in from the main room, even though his back was to the kitchen. "Once B'layr makes up his mind, you might as well just go along with it. That's why I'm here," he said with an exaggerated sigh.

"He likes to play the long-suffering martyr," B'layr said, leaning close to Jack to whisper his response.

"It's not hard, considering who I live with," Jim shot back playfully.

"Ignore him," B'layr said, concentrating on slicing the carrots. "Do you have any red fruits? Um ... any tomatoes?" he asked.

Jack rummaged in the vegetable bin of the refrigerator and brought out two.

"May I?" B'layr asked, taking one. At Jack's nod, he bit into the succulent treat, wiping at the juice that slid down his chin. "I just cannot get enough of these," he said with a smile.

After dinner, the men gathered on the couch. Jim and Jack each nursed a beer, while B'layr sipped at a hot cocoa, his feet folded beneath him as he sat between the two men.

"That was the best meal I've had in weeks," Jim commented. "Thank you very much."

"You can thank your friend here," Jack said, giving credit where it was due. "I used his suggestions. He has quite a way with herbs."

"I was trained in herb lore since childhood," B'layr said casually. "And I like to cook. Thank you for allowing me in your kitchen."

"Like he had a choice," Jim ribbed, forcing B'layr to punch him in the shoulder in retribution.

"I enjoyed the company," Jack admitted. "It isn't often we get new folk up here. When we do, it's usually scientists or whale watchers." He got up and stretched, and then turned toward his guests. "I'm afraid this is a one-bedroom place. One of ya can sleep on the couch. I can get a sleeping bag for the other. You'll have to toss for the couch," he said with a grin.

"Don't worry, we'll manage," Jim assured him.

Jack went into his bedroom to fetch some sheets and blankets from the closet. "You'll have to use the throw pillows," he apologized. "I haven't got any more sleeping pillows." He dropped off his load and went to get the sleeping bag. "This is really pretty comfortable, if you stretch out in front of the fireplace," he suggested, rolling the bag out onto the floor.

B'layr nodded, eyeing the warmth of the fireplace and deciding the floor didn't sound like such a bad place to sleep. "Thank you very much," he said. "This will do nicely."

"If you need extra blankets, feel free to use any on the furniture." Jack turned toward his bedroom. "Sorry to leave you so early, but it's been a long day for me. See you in the morning."

"Good night," elf and man said together as their host disappeared behind his bedroom door.

"I will take the floor," B'layr offered. "The fireplace sounds cozy."

"And I don't?" Jim asked with a hint of a pout. "You're angry because I teased you tonight."

B'layr laughed quietly. "I am not angry, my heart. There is not enough room on the couch, and I am more used to 'roughing it' than you are."

Jim finished tucking the sheets over the cushions of the couch, piled some pillows on one end, and then held the blanket up invitingly. "How do you know, unless you try?" He wiggled his eyebrows and B'layr chuckled.

Quickly shedding his clothes down to his underwear, B'layr climbed onto the couch, squeezing himself against the back cushions. Jim undressed as well and perched on the edge of the narrow piece of furniture, wrapping an arm around his mate and pulling B'layr up onto his stomach. The surprised elf shifted slightly, placing one of his legs between the two of Jim's, and snuggling down to use Jim's chest as a pillow. Jim threw a blanket over them both, kissing the top of his mate's head. "See? I told you that we'd both fit," he said.

B'layr wiggled, shifting his weight a bit to the inside to take some of it off Jim's chest. In doing so, his knee ground into Jim's testicles with just enough pressure to arouse. His mate groaned, and B'layr let a hand slip down to the burgeoning erection.

"Oh God, B'layr," Jim whispered. "We shouldn't. We'll wake Jack."

"Not if you stay quiet," B'layr insisted, covering Jim's mouth with his own as he let his fingers creep underneath the waistband of Jim's briefs to wrap around the hardening shaft. "He is sleeping? You are sure?" he asked when they finally broke the kiss.

Jim froze, listening intently to the sounds coming from the single bedroom, and then nodded. "Yeah, he's asleep. Why?"

"I have an idea," B'layr said, tugging at Jim's briefs and pulling them down to his knees. His own underwear quickly followed, freeing his erect penis to bob close to Jim's face. "It is a way to keep us both quiet, and not leave a mess for Jack."

"And that is...?" Jim asked, practically salivating at the nearness of B'layr's shaft. The scent of pre-come leaking from the tip pushed his own arousal to painful intensity.

In answer, B'layr began to shift, turning around so that his mouth hovered near Jim's penis, while his own rigid organ dangled invitingly in his lover's face. Jim's tongue darted out to lap up the pre-come and tease the swollen glans. B'layr smothered his gasp by going down on Jim's shaft, taking the entire length of the organ into his mouth and throat. He eased back, allowing his tongue to swirl around the shaft and to tease the sensitive slit in the crown.

Jim answered by taking the first few inches of B'layr's penis into his mouth and suckling hard. It took all the concentration and control the elf possessed to not ram his aching erection down Jim's throat. Instead, he focused on sucking and licking the offering before him, finally settling into a rhythm.

Jim's hips quivered and he thrust upward, trying to control his need so that he didn't choke his soulmate. B'layr took the invitation to make a downward thrust of his own, and soon both men were alternating swallowing and releasing the pistoning organs. It was Jim who first felt his balls tighten as his climax peaked and washed over him. The ample cock that still filled his mouth muffled his groan of completion. As B'layr licked the last droplets of semen from the spent organ, his own orgasm shook him, and he buried his face in Jim's groin to silence his cry.

After a few minutes of sated lethargy, B'layr squirmed around until he was once again facing his lover. "Is he still asleep?"

Jim nodded, smiling up at his soulmate, before pulling the triumphant face down to his for a final kiss. B'layr snuggled into the crack between Jim and the back of the couch, content to have Jim's arm wrap around him and to use Jim's chest as a pillow. The Sentry pulled the blanket over them both and the couple fell into a deep post-coital sleep. Just before sunrise, the elf woke and crept from the warmth of the communal bed to put on his underwear and crawl into the sleeping bag in front of the fire.

Jack awoke a half hour later and came out of his bedroom to start breakfast. He glanced over at the two men curled in their separate beds and shook his head. From the vibes he'd been getting the night before, he had fully expected to find them entwined in each other's arms. Maybe he wasn't the expert judge of character he thought he was. Then he noticed Jim's underwear, still abandoned on the floor.... Maybe he was after all....

~oO0Oo~

"Did you remember to take your Dramamine?" Jack asked as he held the helicopter door for B'layr and Jim.

The elf nodded. "Not that I am sure it will help," he added miserably. "Did it **_have_** to be a helicopter?" he whispered to Jim.

"It was this or the ferry. Get in there!" Jim said, laughing as he pushed against the reluctant elf. "This isn't going to be any worse than the small plane that brought us here."

"That is what I am afraid of," B'layr snapped back.

"Got your seatbelts fastened?" Jack shouted back at the couple over the sound of the rotors starting up.

Jim gave the man a thumbs up sign, and then wrapped an arm around B'layr's shoulder as the helicopter took off and banked steeply left.

"Oh my God," B'layr gulped. "Hang on, Jim! Just hang on!"

Jim did as he was told, chuckling all the while. "It's not like you've never flown before," he said to B'layr. "In helicopters, even."

"But not in helicopters over **_huge_** bodies of water," B'layr said, hazarding a glance out the window.

Jim sighed and pulled B'layr closer. "You **_would_** have to bring that up."

"What?"

"Water," Jim said forlornly.

"What about water? Jim?" B'layr's fear was instantly sublimated by his curiosity. Something was going on here. Something he knew nothing about.

"I-I just have a thing for large bodies of water," Jim explained.

"Like a phobia or something?" B'layr asked, surprised that Jim, an ex-Army Ranger, ex-cop, would have a fear of anything.

"Yeah, something like that," Jim agreed. "It's just when I'm surrounded by water with no land in sight."

"Below us," Jack pointed out with perfect timing, "are the Diomede Islands. The larger one belongs to Russia, the smaller is a part of Alaska," he explained.

"There, you see?" B'layr said. "We are in sight of land."

A few minutes later the helicopter passed the easternmost shore of Siberia and made its way inland to the Chukotka capital of Anadyr. "Here you go, guys," Jack said, setting the helicopter down. "Good luck finding what you're looking for."

Jim and B'layr climbed out of the helicopter, both happy to have their feet on the ground again. They waved their farewells as Jack took off, and then looked around at the bustling city of ten thousand people.

"Now what?" Jim asked, looking around. "How are we going to find the elves here?"

"First, we need to find someone who speaks English," B'layr said, being practical about the problem at hand. "Look!" He tugged at Jim's coat sleeve and pointed. Across the street and about one hundred feet down the block was a sign for tours of the region. Some of the signs were in English.

The men headed toward the tour office, pleased that their initial conquest had been so easy. _"May I help you?"_ The man behind the desk spoke Russian.

"Do you speak English?" Jim asked, beating B'layr to the punch by a breath.

"Da ... Yes," the man answered. "How may I help you?" he asked in stilted English.

"We are looking for information," B'layr began. "We need someone who can translate for us. We need to speak with any tribal Elders who can tell us tales of ancient legends." When the man looked puzzled, B'layr pulled out his academic credentials from Rainier University. "I am an anthropologist," he explained.

"Ah..." The man nodded, finally understanding the strange request. "I can do that for you."

"Great! Terrific!" The elf bounced in place, grinning at Jim. "Jackpot!"

"Um ... Where can we find lodging?" Jim asked, ending the exchange between B'layr and the guide.

"There is hotel ... down street, about one kilometer," he said pointing to his right.

"Thank you." Jim tugged at B'layr's sleeve, finally convincing the elf to move. "We need to get settled before we start hounding the locals," he said as they walked down the street.

"I do not plan on 'hounding' anyone," B'layr corrected his mate. "I merely wish to hear the legends; to find out if our people came this way as the Ancient suggested."

"And I need a bed to sleep in and a hot meal," Jim retorted.

The historic old city was a goldmine of interest to the anthropologist, who had trouble keeping his mind on track. Jim finally managed to get him to the hotel. After registering, they dropped off their meager belongings and then headed out on foot in search of a restaurant.

"You know," B'layr said as they settled into a booth and picked up their menus, "the Chukchi people were nomadic reindeer herders before the Russians took over. 'Chukchi' even means 'reindeer man'." He looked at the menu, unable to decipher the Cyrillic alphabet.

When the waiter approached, Jim looked up from his menu and said a few words in Russian. The waiter scribbled on his pad, smiled at them and left.

"I did not know you spoke Russian!" B'layr exclaimed, surprised by this new secret. "I am learning all sorts of things about you on this trip."

"I don't really speak the language," Jim corrected his partner. "I just know a few words; learned them while I was in the Army."

"So, what did you tell him?" the elf prodded.

"I told him we wanted steaks," Jim said with a grin. "I figure around here, they're likely to be reindeer meat, but that should make you feel right at home."

The steaks arrived with baked potatoes and a hearty whole-grain bread—simple food, but tasty and filling. When they had finished eating, Jim indulged his curious mate and the two took a walk in the downtown area. Using a few words in broken Russian, Jim was able to procure a name for them.

"He said we should speak to a man named Natalko," Jim told his soulmate. "He's an Elder, part of the Chukchi tribe. He should have some tales to tell us."

"Great!" B'layr enthused, bouncing on his toes with enthusiasm. "We can go talk to the guy at the tour place in the morning. He should be able to help us find Natalko."

~oO0Oo~

"Natalko ... yes," said the guide, nodding. "He would be an excellent source of stories, if that is what you are looking for."

"Yes, yes ... exactly!" B'layr said, grinning. "Can you take us to him? Interpret for us?"

"That will not be a problem. Come." The guide grabbed his coat and headed for the door. "By the way, my name is Fyodor ... and you?"

"B'layr ... B'layr Ellison," the elf said, indicating himself. "And this is Jim ... Ellison."

"You be brothers?" Fyodor asked. "You do not look related."

"Yes, we're brothers," Jim answered quickly before B'layr could say more.

"Jiiim?" the elf hissed quietly at his mate.

Jim shook his head. "We'll discuss it later," he promised.

Fyodor ushered them to an ancient Jeep, and then took off down the road, headed out of town. "Natalko lives near the Pegtymel River. It is a bit of a drive. Just relax, I will take you there." After that, their guide fell silent.

In the back seat, B'layr nudged Jim in the ribs with an elbow. "Brothers?" he prodded quietly.

"It's not a good idea to blithely throw around the fact we're a couple," Jim whispered back. "Not everyone takes that idea well, especially in foreign countries. We need to be careful."

"I do not like having to lie," B'layr argued. "You are my mate, and I am proud of it."

"I don't want to risk alienating our guide," Jim explained. "He might take it well, or he might not. We need him. Sometimes, when you're out in the real world, you have to lie."

"I do not like it," B'layr repeated stubbornly, crossing his arms over his chest. "Our people do not lie."

"Our people are an isolated tribe," Jim explained. "The elves are special, unique, and I don't want to see that change. But, Hon, out here in the real world we have to tread a bit more carefully. Not everyone is as understanding or forgiving as you."

"It just does not seem right," B'layr sighed, uncrossing his arms and resting a hand on Jim's knee. "But you know more of this world than I do, so I will follow your lead."

The ride out to the camp where Natalko lived took just under three hours. They sat around a blazing fire, warming their hands. The late spring weather in this part of Siberia was still quite chilly.

The Chukchi Elder eyed his guests. Leaning forward, he brushed the long hair back from B'layr's face, tucking it behind one upswept ear. His fingertips traced the graceful point, while Fyodor looked on in wonder. "You are of the forest folk," the Elder spoke, Fyodor translating for the visiting couple.

B'layr trembled at the revealing touch, his eyes growing wider as Natalko continued to speak. "As a child, I played with your kind."

"The forest people," B'layr began, quivering with excitement. "Do they live near here?"

"I have not seen them for many years," Natalko said with sadness. "Their likeness is carved in the stones on the banks of the river. I can take you there." With an effort, the old man rose and picked up a sturdy walking stick.

Jim and B'layr were quickly at his side, eager to see what he had to show them. On the banks of the Pegtymel were large, gray boulders. Petroglyphs decorated their sides: pictures of animals and of men with mushroom heads ... and of elves.

"Oh my God, Jim! Look!" B'layr allowed a finger to lightly trace over the likeness of an elf carved into the ancient stones.

"Our people do not know who carved the pictures," Natalko explained. "Nor do we know how old they may be. They might be one thousand years old, or ten thousand ... our stories do not say."

"What's with the mushroom heads?" Jim asked, curious about the odd drawings.

"Our people sometimes eat of the fly-agaric mushroom," Natalko explained. "I ate of them once and plunged."

"You what?" Jim asked, at once both amused and confused by the foreign term.

"I saw the rocks alive; I spoke with the dead," Natalko explained.

"Jim! He was on a vision-quest!" B'layr said, excitedly tugging at Jim's sleeve. "Perhaps if I ate some of this mushroom, I could speak with the Ancient again."

"No. Huh-uh. No way," Jim said, shaking his head. "You've taken enough risks already to talk with your dead Ancestors. There's got to be another way."

"Taking the fly-agaric, the vapak, is dangerous," Natalko said. "If you are not a psychic, a shaman, the vapak can kill you. You will walk among the rocks in the spirit plane, but you will not be able to find your way back."

"I come from a hereditary line of Shamans," B'layr said, turning to Jim. "I've walked the spirit plane before—and returned safely."

Natalko nodded. "The elf may partake of the vapak," he said, "but not his mate. I will make the journey beside him."

"I wish you wouldn't do this," Jim pleaded with B'layr.

"After all these years..." the elf began, a hint of sadness in his voice. "After all these years, you still do not trust me to do what is right?"

"I know how much this quest means to you," Jim whispered. "But I can't keep risking losing you." He pulled B'layr close and looked down into the wide blue eyes. "I couldn't bear to lose you, to go home alone."

"You will not, my heart," B'layr said, lifting a hand to stroke down Jim's cheek. "I am protected, and I go with a guide."

Natalko had already turned from the riverbank to head toward a grove of trees nearby. After several minutes of hunting, he took a stick and began to dig near the roots of an ancient conifer. When he straightened, he had something in his hand. Approaching the couple, he held out his prize to B'layr.

"This is the vapak. If you are to make the journey, you must swallow this whole; do not chew. And do not drink water to wash it down, simply make more saliva, if needed."

B'layr took one of the small mushrooms from the Elder's hand and raised it to his nose, sniffing.

"Please, Sweetheart..." Jim tried one more time. "You should know better than to eat strange mushrooms. It could be poisonous."

"It is hallucinogenic," B'layr corrected.

"Like that tolache stuff you drank at Mount Palomar," Jim argued, desperate to keep his lover from trying the mushroom. "You can't keep taking that stuff. It'll kill you, or ... or take your mind and ... and leave me ... alone."

B'layr stood on his toes and, despite Jim's warnings to the contrary, pressed a kiss against the cold lips. "I must take the journey," he said. "We are so near. We have come so very far. This is not the time to give up."

"Isn't there another way?" Jim begged.

"The forest folk have not been seen for a generation," Natalko said. "If the young elf is to find his people, he must journey for a short time in the other world. I will walk beside him."

Jim turned to Fyodor for support. The guide shrugged. "I just interpret. I am not here to judge."

"But it's dangerous! Tell B'layr how dangerous this is!" Jim insisted, tugging on the man's sleeve.

Fyodor shrugged. "I cannot say. The Chukchi people have a long tradition, going back thousands of years. If Natalko says he will journey with B'layr and return him safely, I believe him."

"I always lose these arguments," Jim said with a sigh. "Are you ever going to let me win, just once?"

"Perhaps next time," B'layr said with a grin. He pulled Jim down with him to the cold ground, once again sitting in the loose circle of his mate's legs, supported by strong arms around his waist. Along with the Elder, he swallowed his mushroom and waited for the transformation.

>>>>*<<<<

"Natalko!" A tall elf stepped out from the concealment of the trees, a wolf and a fox at his side. "It has been a long time, old friend."

"T'yoma, it is good to see you again," the Elder greeted the Old One. "I have brought with me a friend...."

"The Seeker," T'yoma said, nodding. "He was expected." The elf turned to B'layr and smiled. "You have come a long way."

"I seek the ancestors of my people," B'layr said in answer.

"You are from the Lost Tribe," T'yoma said with awe. "Long have the Ancients sought you. Long have you eluded their efforts."

B'layr dropped his gaze. "Out of ignorance," he admitted. "We have not sought isolation. We thought we were alone."

"And how did you discover otherwise?"

"A stone in our garden ... a stone from far away, depicting our people. Because of it, I left our tribe to pursue an education—in hopes of someday finding our roots," B'layr explained. "I feel I am close...."

"We are your cousins," T'yoma agreed. "And we welcome you to our home ... but you have not yet found that which you seek."

The wolf left T'yoma's side and came to sniff at B'layr's feet, and then looked up and whimpered at the elf. B'layr reached down to pet the furred head, and the animal leaned against him, finally curling at his feet.

"He is beautiful," B'layr said with awe, watching the animal that lay alert and on guard by his side.

"He is yours," T'yoma said. "As he has always been."

"Mine?" B'layr looked up in confusion. "I have no tamed creatures."

"He is your spirit guide," T'yoma explained. "He is your protection on the spirit plane, the one who guides you on your way."

"But..." B'layr was confused. "You say you are not those whom I seek, yet my spirit guide is here. He came with you."

"Have you not seen him before?" T'yoma asked. "He has been with you each time you journey to this plane."

B'layr thought back on the other journeys he had taken to the spirit plane. Always, a wolf had been present. "If he did not bring me here, and you are not the people I seek," he said slowly, lost in thought, "then **_where_** do I find them? Where are the Ancestors of my Tribe?"

"We all spring from one root," T'yoma explained. "Your tribe left the ancestral home by boat over what is now called the Black Sea. My people trekked overland by foot to the place you are now."

"You are **_here_**?" B'layr's quick movements startled the wolf, which sat up and yipped with excitement. "I can find you in person? Tell me where!"

"Walk deep into the forest. A scout will guide you to us," T'yoma said, backing away. "Bring Natalko, if he will come." The elf smiled at the old man and waved, turning to fade back into the trees.

"It is time to journey back," Natalko said, taking B'layr's hand. "Follow me."

>>>>*<<<<

B'layr's head lolled against Jim's shoulder where it rested. His eyes blinked open and he drew in a deep breath.

Jim immediately covered the precious mouth with a kiss, in defiance of his own admonition to keep their relationship secret. "God, B'layr! I was so worried about you!" he cried. "You almost stopped breathing!"

"Jim! Oh, Jim ... we are so close!" B'layr said, his voice coming in excited pants. "There is a tribe near here." He struggled to stand, but was held fast by Jim's arms.

"Not so fast," Jim said, refusing to let go. "I thought I was losing you. You need to rest."

"I-I went deep into the spirit plane," B'layr tried to explain. "I went further and stayed longer. But I am fine. Come! Our people are near!" He tried once again to stand.

"We can spend the night here," Fyodor said. "Natalko has room in his tents. It might be best to rest and take your journey tomorrow. Even at this time of year, the days are short."

B'layr nodded, feeling the excitement of the day catch up to him. "All right. We will rest." He nodded toward the Chukchi Elder. "Thank you, Natalko, for journeying with me and returning me safely, and for your hospitality."

"It is a privilege to walk with one of the forest folk," the Elder replied. "Sleep well, Honored One." He indicated a tent.

B'layr stood and walked over to the structure, pulling back the leather flap. On the ground inside was a pile of furs. "Jim! Look! Just like my old sleeping hut!" He grinned widely, pleased with the accommodations.

Jim followed behind, settling next to his lover on the warm pile of furs. He gathered B'layr into his arms. The elf snuggled close, burrowing into his mate's embrace. Jim buried his face in the fragrant head of curls, nuzzling against the tip of one ear and nibbling on the tender flesh. B'layr sighed contentedly, and then his breathing evened out into sleep. Jim heaved a sigh of disappointment, letting his growing arousal die quietly as he held his exhausted mate. He would never see what B'layr saw when his soulmate walked the spirit plane. He would never experience the awe and excitement, nor the total exhaustion that followed such a journey. He would have to content himself with being the watcher, the Sentry, the protector of this most precious soul. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

They were greeted the next morning with a hearty breakfast. Natalko begged off accompanying the elf and his mate on their journey. "I am an old man," he said, rising and leaning heavily on his walking stick. "I would love to see the forest folk again, as I did in my youth, but I fear the trek might be too tiring. I will wait on the banks of the river for your return. Fyodor will wait with me."

They were given food for their journey and sent off in a northwesterly direction. As they walked, the trees grew thicker, larger. They were entering some of the old growth boreal forests of the extreme Northeast of the Asian continent.

"Do you know where we're going?" Jim asked as they forged deeper into the thick undergrowth.

B'layr shook his head. "I do not. T'yoma said we would be met and led to the tribe. I trust that Natalko sent us off in the right direction."

"So we just keep walking until some Sentry finds us?" Jim asked, astonished. "We could get lost in here."

"We will not," B'layr assured him. "My sense of direction is exemplary, as are your senses. If we must return, we shall be able to do so."

"Shhh..." Jim put out a hand to block B'layr's progress through the woods.

"What? What is it?" the elf asked, scanning the dim forest with his eyes.

Jim stepped forward a few feet in front of B'layr and listened again, cocking his head slightly to one side. "There's someone out there," he whispered.

The couple froze and waited. They were soon greeted by another elf. "Hail, friends! I am K'rill of the Reindeer Tribe. Our chieftain, T'yoma, bids you welcome. Follow me."

They marched on through the forest for another mile before they broke out into a clearing filled with a huge bonfire and many elves. T'yoma approached them and wrapped his arms around B'layr in greeting. "Brother! It is good to see you in the flesh. And this is...?" He nodded toward Jim.

"This is my soulmate, J'anin," B'layr introduced Jim by his elven name. "He is Senior Sentry of the Ten Tribes back home."

"Welcome, J'anin of the Ten Tribes! Another Sentry is always reason to celebrate." T'yoma guided the two over to a trestle table groaning with the weight of the feast prepared for the guests.

Once they were settled around the fire with their meal, musicians and dancers appeared to entertain them. Even here, in the cold north, the elves danced naked in the firelight, their bodies painted with bright colors. "Feel free to join them," T'yoma said, watching B'layr as he obviously enjoyed the afternoon's entertainment. "We will revel till dawn in honor of our lost brothers who have been found."

B'layr stood and began to shed his many layers of garments. Jim watched with a touch of jealousy as he saw the looks several of the elves cast in B'layr's direction as he walked toward the fire. Three of the tribe approached him with bowls of paint and began to decorate the lithe body. When one touched B'layr's penis with a finger dipped in red paint, Jim was on his feet, shedding his own clothing as he strode forward to lay claim to his mate.

The elves parted, giving way to the Sentry. "Mine!" He spun B'layr around, watching as his possessiveness worked on his mate's libido, arousing him to full splendor within the space of a few heartbeats.

B'layr wrapped a leg around Jim, grinding his hardness against his mate's groin, in full view of the foreign tribe. The Sentry, powered by a mating urge stronger than any he had felt since before the birth of the twins, lifted his mate off the ground. B'layr wrapped his legs around Jim's waist and settled himself on the hard cock, sinking in his lover's arms until he was fully impaled.

Jim waltzed around the fire, admiring how the red glow lit the auburn blaze in his soulmate's hair. He kissed the tender flesh of the neck that was exposed when B'layr threw his head back in sensual delight. The elf pushed against Jim's shoulders to raise himself, and then let go so that he slammed down on the hard column of flesh inside him. He repeated the movements, eliciting groans of pleasure from his mate.

As his body rose toward orgasm, Jim pulled the elf against his chest, stilling the movements and holding himself buried deep within the precious body. "Aieeeeee!" he screamed as he came, feeling the hot pulse of B'layr's cock as he brought his mate to climax with him.

"It is done," T'yoma intoned.

The sated pair were led away to the privacy of a small hut and left alone. B'layr curled into the warm embrace of his mate and the couple slept until after nightfall.

B'layr awoke hours later, blinking the sleep from his eyes. Beside him, Jim stirred, moaning softly as his soulmate pulled away.

T'yoma's head appeared in the doorway, peering around the leather flap that offered the couple a modicum of privacy. "Have you rested?"

B'layr nodded, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand.

"Good! Then we can proceed with the Blessing ritual," T'yoma announced.

"There is to be a Blessing?" B'layr asked, sitting up. Beside him, Jim opened his eyes, looking up questioningly. "There is to be a Blessing," the elf informed his mate.

Jim pushed himself up on an elbow and eyed T'yoma, who now stood just inside the hut. "You can tell your tribe we're not interested," he informed the chief.

" ** _Jim_**!" B'layr turned sharply to glare at his mate. "That was ... not polite," he finished softly, not wishing to further embarrass his lover.

"We're not a part of your tribe," Jim explained, trying to redeem himself. "It wouldn't seem right for us to participate in Blessing one of your people."

"It is the right of any of our brothers to join in the ritual," T'yoma explained. "But that matters not to you, as it is B'layr who is to be Blessed."

Startled blue eyes connected with the deep brown of the elf chieftain's. "I am not with child," B'layr informed him.

"How can that be?" T'yoma asked, amazed at the pronouncement. "What we witnessed this afternoon was a bond mating that should have produced a child. All could sense that the mating was upon you, even those of us not Gifted."

"That is true," B'layr acknowledged. "The finding of you, brother-cousin, excited me. The food, the music, the dancing—all worked upon me to produce a strong mating drive. But I can no longer Bear."

"Would you then, at least, tell us your story?" T'yoma invited. "The fire still burns in the clearing. The tribe is still celebrating your arrival. If we cannot also share a Blessing, perhaps we can share the tale?"

B'layr nodded. "It is a fair exchange," he acknowledged. "Is there someplace we can bathe?"

"There is a tub of warm water awaiting you outside," T'yoma answered with a smile. "At this time of year, it is still too cold to bathe in the streams and pools."

"Thank you. We will join you in a short time," B'layr said with a nod to the chieftain.

T'yoma backed out of the hut, once again leaving the couple alone.

"For once I'm actually grateful that you're barren," Jim said with a sigh. "I'm not at all sure I could have endured a tribe of strangers Blessing you."

B'layr stroked a hand across Jim's cheek and then leaned in to press a gentle kiss against his lips. "Had I been with child, I would have wished it," he said softly. "So far from home, it would have been a comfort to know that our child would be cared for and raised in the old traditions, if something were to happen to us." He wrapped his arms around Jim, laying his head on the broad shoulder. "But I, too, am glad it did not come to that. I have grown to respect your way, and I would not have wanted to hurt you."

Jim returned the embrace, holding tightly to the slender form of his lover. He buried his face in the hair at B'layr's neck and drank in one last whiff of the mating scent. With a sigh, he released his hold and stood up, bringing B'layr with him. "I'm ready for that bath; how about you?"

The large wooden tub was filled with steaming water. The vapor rose from the surface in curling wisps of silver, inviting them in. Elf and man climbed in together, sending the excess water spilling over the side of the tub.

B'layr sank down, dunking his head beneath the surface before coming back up for air. He shook his head, sending diamond-bright droplets of water flying from his hair.

"Whoa, there!" Jim laughed, holding up his hands to fend off the spray. "A little less enthusiasm, please."

"I am sorry," B'layr said with a mischievous grin, not at all repentant. "But the water feels so good."

"I agree." Jim smiled back at his lover. "But don't you think we should get this over with? We did promise the chief an explanation."

"I suppose you are right," B'layr said with a sigh. He grabbed a handful of moss that lay on a small bench next to the tub and used it to scrub the dried semen from Jim's chest. Once they were clean, B'layr climbed from the tub and headed toward the clearing.

"Hey, where do you think you're going?" Jim asked, climbing out and using some scraps of cloth to dry his body.

"To the Gathering," B'layr replied. "As we promised."

"Well, I intend to get dressed first," Jim announced, pointedly looking at B'layr's nakedness.

"They will wish their Healer to inspect me," B'layr explained. "To validate my claim."

"You mean they won't just take your word for it?" Jim asked, astonished.

"K'tan would not have," B'layr answered. "What happened to me is virtually unheard of among our people. That I could have the mating scent so strongly about me, and yet not conceive, is beyond their understanding."

"But after you explain...."

"They will wish the exam **_before_** I explain," B'layr said softly. "Hurry, they await us."

A Blessing platform had been erected in front of the bonfire and piled high with the finest furs the tribe possessed. B'layr strode up to the platform as though he owned it and climbed the stairs. Jim joined him and they sat together in front of the tribe.

T'yoma approached with another elf. "Greetings, brothers. This is R'slan, our Healer. He wishes permission to examine the Bearer to verify his claim that he is not with child."

"I would have thought that **_brothers_** would be more accepting," Jim growled. "Don't you believe what B'layr told you? He's willing to tell the whole story. Maybe then you'll understand."

"It is not that we do not believe what B'layr has said," R'slan answered the challenge, "but perhaps he is mistaken."

"There's no mistake here," Jim snapped. "He hasn't got a damn uterus anymore. No womb; no child. How hard is that to understand?"

There was a collective gasp from the assembled elves at the revelation.

"Jim, let them do this," B'layr said softly. "Then I will tell our tale." He lay down on the furs, cradling his head in Jim's lap. Pulling up his knees, he spread his legs, giving the Healer full access.

R'slan climbed the platform stairs and knelt in front of the elf. Asking no further permission, he positioned himself between B'layr's legs and began the slow insertion of his hand into the tight passage.

"Oh God, Jim!" B'layr hissed between clenched teeth, grabbing his mate's hand to squeeze. "This hurts as much as giving birth!" He heard Jim's sharp intake of breath and hurried to forestall the angry words. "Let him work, my heart. I submitted to this; it will be all right." With that, B'layr made an effort to relax, knowing that fighting the invasion would only worsen the discomfort. He took in deep breaths, expelling them in short bursts of panting as he willed his opening to stretch to accommodate the Healer.

"If it's too much, let me know," Jim said, bending down to kiss the perspiration-slicked forehead. "I'll make him stop." He brushed errant strands of long hair from B'layr's face, watching with concern as his mate suffered the examination in relative silence.

R'slan's hand disappeared inside B'layr's body, along with a few inches of his forearm. B'layr panted through the pain, wishing nothing more than to have the exam be finished. The Healer took his free hand and began to palpate B'layr's lower abdomen. The elf grimaced and held tighter to his protector, enduring the pain.

Finally, R'slan eased out, leaving B'layr feeling as though he had just birthed twins again. He closed his eyes, relaxing to Jim's touch and whispered words of encouragement.

"He has no womb, and cannot Bear," R'slan announced to the astonished audience. "There will be no Blessing this night." He stood and made his way off the platform and through the crowd to the edge of the encampment.

T'yoma approached with a finely woven blanket to cover B'layr's chill-wracked body. "Do you feel able to tell us your story, brother?" he asked.

"Leave him alone!" Jim snapped, suddenly angry at the treatment, despite the fact B'layr had expected it and had submitted willingly. "That was nothing short of barbaric! B'layr is in pain and exhausted. Just leave us alone."

A young elf approached the chieftain with a cup of steaming liquid. "From the Healer," he said, handing the drink to T'yoma.

The chieftain offered the cup to Jim. "Have B'layr drink this. It will ease the pain considerably."

"What is it?" Jim growled, sniffing the concoction to determine the ingredients.

"Nothing but herbs and roots, infused into a tea," T'yoma answered. "It will not harm him."

"B'layr, Honey," Jim crooned, lifting the elf's head and supporting his shoulders. "Think you can drink a little of this?" He pressed the cup to B'layr's lips and waited until the elf sipped at the contents. "How do you feel, my soul?" He stroked the long hair and pressed a kiss on top of the bowed head.

"I feel as though I birthed a small tribe," he sighed, and then chuckled feebly. "This drink will help." He scooted until he was sitting on his own, and took the cup from Jim's hand. "Their Healer is wise in herb lore." He took another sip of the hot liquid and smiled.

Jim snaked an arm around the trembling shoulders and pulled B'layr close. "You're sure you're okay?"

"I am fine, my heart," the elf assured him. "I will be sore for a day or two, but I will survive." He looked out on the assembled tribe. "They wish to hear the story."

"Yes, please tell us!" an elf near the front of the group piped up.

B'layr took another sip of the tea. "It happened over twenty-five Turns of the seasons earlier," he began. "I was pregnant for the second time, with twins." There was a gasp from the assembled elves.

"Twins? Two at once?" the anonymous voice was full of awe.

"Yes," B'layr confirmed. "It was unheard of in our tribe as well, but I could not deny the truth." He held his hands out in front of himself, indicating the girth of his belly at the time. A scattering of chuckles rose from the crowd.

"It was the time of Gathering for the Ten Tribes, and I was still nearly two moons from my due date," B'layr continued, his hands dancing in graceful gestures to emphasize his words. "It was a long journey and I tired of it. J'anin and our firstborn built a travois to convey me the rest of the distance.

"When we arrived at the Gathering place, J'anin's assistance was requested to lead a hunting party to provide food for the tribes."

"I didn't want to leave you," Jim whispered, tugging B'layr closer.

"I know you did not," B'layr acknowledged. "But you had no way of knowing what would happen."

A voice in the crowd spoke up. "What **_did_** happen?"

"I went into labor while the hunting party was gone," B'layr answered. "I wished to wait until J'anin's return, but the babies did not agree.

"I went to the birthing platform and labored for over a day as I waited for our son to bring J'anin to me." B'layr turned to his mate, stroking his cheek. "I did not wish to give birth without him near." Jim leaned down to kiss the lips that were turned up toward his.

"By the time our Healer announced the birth, I was too exhausted to bring the children forth." B'layr grimaced as the next memory assaulted him. "K'tan was prepared to take the children by force. He gave me a drink so that I would not feel the pain, and prepared to cut the elflings from my womb."

Jim growled, the sound low and threatening. "I arrived back at the Gathering before the Healer could sacrifice B'layr," he said. "L'anin, our firstborn, helped me birth the first child, but the second was caught up inside." He sighed at the memory, still carrying guilt for what came next. "I was the one forced to cut the second elfling from the womb."

"A female," B'layr said proudly.

There was another gasp from the assembled elves. "A female?" T'yoma said, awed. "As the prophecies foretold?"

"Yes, yes, but we're getting ahead of the story here," Jim interrupted. "I thought I was going to lose B'layr, but he won the battle for his life."

"J'anin has never forgiven himself for what he had to do that day," B'layr said, pausing to give his mate another kiss. "But what he did changed the course of history for our tribe." He smiled up at his still distraught mate. "I am very proud of him."

"You birthed a female elf?" T'yoma repeated when B'layr had stopped speaking.

"Yes; K'tiri, sister of T'erin. She now leads the combined Ten Tribes of Rainier," B'layr answered with pride.

"We have a legend among us!" T'yoma announced. "The Bearer of Prophecy."

"That's a new one," B'layr whispered in an aside to Jim.

The Sentry chuckled. "You're a Bearer all right—a Bearer of titles."

B'layr smacked Jim across the shoulders for the smart remark, bursting into a fit of uncontrolled laughter. When the spasm passed, he wiped the tears from his eyes, allowing for a few final chuckles.

T'yoma looked confused. "May I ask what is so funny? You have fulfilled the Prophecy of She Who Will Rule. That is a great honor, and gives you a place among the greatest of chieftains."

"I am well aware of the honor," B'layr said more soberly. "It is only that I have taken many titles over the span of my life, and I thought I was finished. But you bestow yet another upon me." He grinned.

"Be that as it may," T'yoma said with a nod to their honored guest, "you have not yet told us why you can no longer be a Bearer."

"Ah ... well," B'layr said with a sigh. "J'anin was right to do what he did to birth K'tiri. If he had not, both she and I would have perished. But in so doing, my womb was damaged," he told his enthralled listeners. "I became pregnant again, but lost the child to miscarriage. When I came to be with child yet again, the Healer did what he could to bring the baby to term. Unfortunately, it was another twin pregnancy and my womb was not strong enough, even with the special care I received. I miscarried one, but the other died in my belly and would not be birthed." Tears welled in his eyes as the memories of their lost children flooded back. It had been many years, yet the grief was still fresh. "J'anin took me to the city, to his healers, and they removed my womb." His shoulders shook, and B'layr finally turned in Jim's arms to bury his face in his mate's shirt. Sobs wracked his body at the memories.

"Oh Baby ... Sweetheart ... child of my soul," Jim crooned. "It's all right, my love. Please, please ... don't cry."

"I am sorry if our curiosity opened old wounds," T'yoma said contritely. "We did not mean to bring you sorrow."

"We try not to speak of it," Jim said, rubbing B'layr's back. "The graves of our lost children are not more than fifty meters from our home. B'layr visits there daily, but he never says anything to me about it. I know he doesn't blame me, but I blame myself." He tangled his fingers in the long hair, cradling B'layr's head. "Shhh ... shhh ... my soul. It's done; over. We'll go home now."

B'layr pulled back from the fierce embrace and wiped his eyes. "Home?"

"Yes, we'll go home," Jim said, nodding. "Back to our family."

"No." B'layr shook his head. "No, I do not wish to go home yet."

"But, Sweetheart..." Jim started.

B'layr interrupted with a finger pressed against Jim's lips. "Ever you look for excuses, my heart. Our journey is not yet complete. We are too near to end it now. We have gone through too much to abandon the search."

"I thought ... I thought ... the memories..." Jim stammered.

"The memories are hard, but the telling is good, cleansing," B'layr told him. "I know you mean well, and wish only for my happiness, but I shall not be content until we have reached our goal."

"You have been through much this night," T'yoma told their guests. "Perhaps you should retire to the privacy of your sleeping hut. If you desire to visit with us longer, we will welcome your presence. But if you should choose to move on, we will try and guide your way."

Jim nodded. "That's a good idea. Thank you." He stood, and then bent down to scoop B'layr into his arms and carried him to the sleeping hut.

"You did not have to do that," B'layr said solemnly as Jim lowered him to the furs. "You did not have to carry me. I could have walked."

"Are you kidding?" Jim asked, amazed at the stamina of his mate. "After what their Healer put you through? You'll be lucky if you're able to walk by morning."

"By morning I will have stiffened up," B'layr said knowingly. "I will have a more difficult time then, than I would have this evening."

"Gripe, gripe, gripe..." Jim teased, smiling. "All I hear from you are complaints."

"I do not complain about one thing," B'layr said, reaching up for the Sentry and grabbing the fabric of his shirt. A tug brought his mate down beside him. "I do not complain about **_you_**."

As B'layr pulled him close for a kiss, Jim felt the heat of arousal radiating from the strong body, a column of hard flesh pressing against his groin. The mating scent once again filled his senses, and he knew that he was lost.

~oO0Oo~

The morning sun filtered past the leather flap that stood as a doorway to the sleeping hut. B'layr rolled over and groaned. "Oh God ... my aching butt..."

Jim stretched an arm across B'layr's chest, pulling the elf against his side. "I thought you said a little workout would make it better."

"It did ... last night," B'layr complained, letting another mewling cry escape his throat as he shifted to find a comfortable position.

"Roll over."

"Wha...?" B'layr blinked up at his lover.

"Roll over." The Sentry waited patiently as his mate slowly complied with the command. Strong fingers began kneading the flesh and muscle of B'layr's buttocks, forcing another small moan from the elf's throat. "Just relax." He spoke softly, soothingly as he worked.

"That feels great," B'layr murmured. "But the ache is on the inside."

"Getting there, be patient," Jim reprimanded gently. He continued the massage for a few minutes longer. Finally, using some pre-come that leaked from the head of his erection to lubricate his fingers, he probed gently past the tight muscle that guarded B'layr's center.

"Ooooohhh, God..." B'layr cried in a mixture of anguish and pleasure so intense that he couldn't tell the two apart.

Jim pushed deeper, until his fingers had gone as far as they could reach without pushing his hand inside as well, as the Healer had done. Pulling out, he watched as B'layr squirmed, making small grunts and moans as he humped the furs beneath him.

From between B'layr's widespread legs, Jim could see the elf's erection blossoming, becoming a pulsing rod desiring release.

The awkward angle of his penis, trapped beneath him, made B'layr come up on his knees, freeing the organ to spring to life. Heavy with the blood of arousal, his cock pointed straight down at the furs.

"Oh, Chief..." Jim muttered, the sight before him making his own body ache for completion. He braced himself against B'layr's hips and positioned his cock at the elf's backside. Gathering what little control still remained to him, he made one final statement. "Now is the time, my soul. If you don't want this, if it's going to hurt, say the word and I'll stop."

In answer, B'layr rocked back on his knees, pushing the head of Jim's penis past the tight muscle of his anus. "Oh ... oh ... ohohoh," he panted. "Jim ... Jim, please..."

Jim leaned forward, over B'layr's back. One hand wrapped around the straining cock, while the other brushed taut nipples nestled in the soft fur of the elf's chest hair. He burrowed into the hair that fell in ringlets around B'layr's neck as he pushed slowly, inch-by-inch, deeper into his lover's body.

"Awwww..." The moan escaped B'layr's lips before he could contain it, the sound causing Jim to freeze. "Do not stop, Love. Please do not stop," he pleaded.

"I'm hurting you," Jim whispered, prepared to pull out.

"No. No ... It is better. You are making it better," the elf insisted.

Jim finished easing in, and then stopped to let B'layr adjust to the feeling. His penis reached much deeper into the aching channel than his fingers could, nearly as far as R'slan had penetrated the night before. Tiny movements of his hips allowed his organ to massage the internal passageway. The sigh of contentment that issued from his lover told him that he had, indeed, made the right choice. He nibbled at the juncture of B'layr's neck and shoulder, and then showered the area with feather-light kisses.

B'layr rocked on his knees, assisting the internal massage that reached right to his very core. He was content to continue in this manner, the pain leeching away with each shallow thrust, but his cock had a mind of its own. The organ pulsed with life, reaching toward climax. B'layr's balls drew in tight to his body and he knew he could contain the completion no longer.

"Ai! Aiaiaiaiai-eeee!" he squealed. "Oh Jim, Jiiiim!" He panted in rough bursts of breath as his cock throbbed, spitting out semen in pulsing shots.

Jim groaned as the tight channel clenched around his organ, squeezing almost intolerably. He tried to move, no longer content with gentle massage as his own body cried out for release. When the spasms passed, he pulled out and plunged back in with a desperate pounding.

"Oh God, B'laaaayrrr!" he cried as his body tensed and then released, filling his barren lover with seed.

The pair collapsed in sated bliss. Jim draped an arm over the elf, prepared to take his usual post-coital nap, but B'layr had other ideas.

"Jim! J'anin? Wake, my heart, we have much to do." B'layr gently shook his lethargic mate, waiting for the cool blue eyes to open.

"What...?" Jim groaned, not happy with having his afterglow disturbed.

"We must get up and bathe," the elf insisted. "Today I hope to ask T'yoma about the Ancestors. We cannot afford to keep Fyodor waiting too long for us. We have already been gone nearly two days."

"I thought you were in too much pain to walk far," Jim mumbled, not wishing his lover discomfort, but all the same looking for an excuse to stay in bed a while longer.

"You have done much to alleviate my suffering," B'layr said with a wicked grin. "But it is time for us to move on. Now, get up. Our bath awaits us."

As with the evening before, a steaming tub of water was waiting just outside their sleeping hut. Jim lifted B'layr and settled him in the water, before climbing in himself and sinking into the blessed warmth.

"This is wonderful," Jim sighed. He leaned his back against the edge of the tub and pulled B'layr into his lap, back to chest. He wrapped his arms around the slender waist and nuzzled into his favorite spot behind the elf's left ear. His lips found the silver rings and tugged gently, pulling on the lobe.

With a sigh, B'layr allowed his head to fall back against Jim's shoulder. "I almost wish we did not have to leave," he said softly. "This has been almost like a rebirth."

Jim kissed the parted lips, letting his tongue dive into the waiting mouth. B'layr returned the gesture, turning in his lover's arms to make the access easier. His own tongue darted out to do battle, eventually winning the opportunity to explore his mate. The kiss ended with both parties breathless and hungry for more.

"No," B'layr said with a note of regret. He pushed away from his lover and stood up. "We must go meet with T'yoma."

As before, cloths had been laid out to aid in their drying. Once both were dressed, B'layr led the way back to the clearing.

"Greetings, brothers. I trust you slept well?" T'yoma greeted them.

"We were indeed quite comfortable," B'layr said with a smile.

The chieftain studied the foreign elf. "You seem none the worse for wear, considering your ordeal of last night."

"J'anin knows the way to make things right," B'layr answered, watching as a blush crept up from Jim's collar.

T'yoma chuckled. "I am glad that you were not harmed, Honored One."

B'layr stepped forward to clasp T'yoma's arm. "We have appreciated your hospitality, but we must be leaving soon. Our guide will tire of waiting for us if we stay much longer."

"We will be sorry to see you go," the chieftain said with sincerity. "Is there anything more we can do for you?"

"Perhaps," B'layr answered. "Do you know the Ancestors whom we seek? Where they live?"

"They live in a land west of here," T'yoma said. "The place is called Romania. Do you know it?"

B'layr nodded. "I know of it, yes." He pulled the Reindeer chieftain into a hug. "Thank you. It was good to meet others. For so long, we thought we were alone in the world."

"No, you are not alone. We are elated to have found the Lost Tribe," T'yoma said. "Or rather, to have the Lost Tribe find us. Go in peace and may the spirits guide you."

The couple headed out, away from the Reindeer Tribe, guided by K'rill. When they reached an area where the trees began to thin out, their guide left them and they made their way back to Natalko's camp.

"B'layr! Jim!" Fyodor greeted them as they emerged from the forest. "I wondered if we would see you again. Did you find what you were looking for?"

"Yes, indeed we did," B'layr answered with a huge grin.

"You found the Old Ones," Natalko said, returning B'layr's smile. "I wish I could have journeyed with you, but I am too old for such a trek."

"They send you greetings, Natalko, and were disappointed you could not come," B'layr told the Elder.

Natalko nodded. "Perhaps, someday, I will take the vapak again and journey to greet them in that manner."

Jim approached the Chukchi man and held out his hand. "Thank you for your hospitality, and for helping us to further our quest. We've got to be leaving now." He turned toward Fyodor. "Could you take us back to our hotel? I think it's time we check out and make reservations to our next destination."

"Not a problem, sir," Fyodor said with a nod. He headed back toward the Jeep and waited for the couple to join him.

~oO0Oo~

"Well, Babe, this is it," Jim said as the Jeep bounced its way back toward Anadyr. "Are you sure you're ready?"

B'layr's smile spread from ear to ear. "I know this sounds corny," he said, "but I think I have been ready my whole life. It is like this is what I was born into the world to do—seek our Ancestors. And I have found them. **_We_** have found them."

"Not quite," Jim reminded him. "But at least we're headed in the right direction."

When they arrived back at the hotel, Jim called the airline and made reservations on a flight to Bucharest, with a brief layover in Moscow. "It's an early flight," Jim warned his mate. "We have to be at the airport no later than 4:30 in the morning."

"Then we had best find a meal and go to bed," the elf responded. "How about that restaurant down the street? They had terrific reindeer steaks."

Jim's mouth watered at the suggestion and he grabbed his coat. "Let's go."

"You are back!" their waiter greeted them.

"Had to have your steaks one more time," Jim answered, sliding into the booth.

The man nodded. "The same, then? For both?"

"Yes," B'layr said, nodding. "Thank you."

Once the waiter had left, B'layr leaned across the table. "God, Jim! Can you believe it? We found another tribe, and now we're on our way to find the Ancients. I can hardly believe this is really happening."

"Just promise me one thing," Jim said with a sigh. "No more hallucinogenics or trips to the spirit world."

"There should be no need," B'layr explained. "The journeys before were made to communicate with the Ancient Ones. Now, we shall be privileged to meet them in person."

"I don't want to risk losing you again."

"You will not," B'layr promised.

Their food arrived, and both man and elf began eating with great relish. Conversation died while they filled their bellies with the hearty meal.

Jim sat back and placed his hands over his stomach, peering at his empty plate. "I couldn't eat another bite."

"I, too, have eaten more than I should on this trip," B'layr said, looking a bit uncomfortable. "I do not metabolize as quickly as you. I think, perhaps, it would be well if we went back to the hotel so that I could sleep this off."

"Tummyache?" Jim asked, looking at his mate who appeared distinctly queasy.

B'layr nodded and slipped cautiously from the bench. "I would like to go back to our room now."

Jim tossed some money on the table, enough to cover their bill and a generous tip. Slipping his arm around the elf's waist, he guided him out the door and back up the street toward their hotel.

B'layr fell across the bed when they reached their room. "Ooooohhh God," he groaned, holding his stomach.

Jim knelt before him and began to remove his shoes and socks. He slowly worked his way up B'layr's anatomy, undressing the elf as he went. When his lover was down to a T-shirt and boxers, he lifted the blankets and helped B'layr to settle into bed. He quickly divested himself of his own clothing, and then made quick use of the bathroom before coming to snuggle next to his mate.

"Hold me," B'layr begged, curling into Jim's embrace and burying his face in Jim's chest.

The Sentry's protective instincts were immediately heightened by the distress in his soulmate's voice. He adjusted the blankets over them, and wrapped his arm a bit tighter around the trembling body. "It's going to be all right," he crooned, stroking the soft curls. "You'll feel better in the morning. Go to sleep now. Shhh ... shhh ... sleep, my soul. Sleep."

The quiet cadence of the words lulled B'layr toward the blessed relief of sleep.

When the alarm went off the following morning at 3:00 a.m., all thoughts of discomfort were pushed away in the bustle of bathing and packing, getting ready to leave on the next leg of their quest.

"I'm going to grab a quick bite at the coffee shop," Jim said as they hauled their meager luggage from the hotel.

"Fine," B'layr responded. "But I do not think I will need to eat for at **_least_** a week!"

"You'd better start feeling better soon," Jim cautioned. "If I know elves, and I think I do by now, there's going to be another welcoming feast for us when we finally locate the Ancients."

"How long will it take us to fly to Romania?" B'layr asked.

Jim shrugged. "We should be settled in Bucharest by this afternoon or early evening. I'd suggest waiting until at least tomorrow to start the search."

"That would be wise," B'layr nodded. "All I can tell from my vision-quests is that they live in ancient forests in the mountains."

"The Carpathians," Jim added. "Dracula country."

"Vampires do not exist," B'layr said with a slight scowl.

"Oh, no? But elves do?" Jim teased back.

"Go find your muffin and coffee," B'layr said, pointing to the coffee shop next door to the hotel.

Jim stepped into the shop and ordered a pastry and coffee, bringing them out to the curb as they waited for their cab to arrive to take them to the airport.

~oO0Oo~

Their plane landed at the Otopeni International Airport in Bucharest late that afternoon. The travelers made their way through Customs and checked in at the nearby Sky Gate Hotel.

"I cannot believe we are truly here," B'layr said, bouncing on the edge of the bed. "I feel a pull—as if I am being called home."

"Just so you don't get up in the middle of the night and sleepwalk out of here," Jim said with a chuckle.

"You would not allow that, my heart," B'layr replied. "A Sentry does not let his mate escape so easily."

Jim shook a finger at the grinning elf. "Just don't you go trying it." He paced around the room, finally sifting through the brochures left on the table. "I'm hungry."

"You are always hungry, Love," B'layr said, walking over to stand behind Jim and wrap his arms around his mate's waist. "Do they have room service here?"

"No, but I saw a restaurant next door as we came in," Jim said. "Keep me company?"

"I suppose," the elf said with a sigh. "If I must."

They both grabbed their jackets and walked to the restaurant. Jim studied the menu, trying to decide. "As long as I'm here, I might as well try some of the local cuisine," he mused. He looked up at the waiter. "I'll try the Sarmale," he said.

"Do you even know what that is?" B'layr asked, amused, after the waiter had left.

A girl came by to fill Jim's cup with coffee. "No, but I'm not that picky," he said, looking around at the local flavor of the decorations.

"Ha! We shall see," B'layr chuckled. "Perhaps we should make some plans," he suggested a moment later.

"What do you have in mind?" Jim asked, taking a sip of his coffee.

"Well," B'layr began. "I was thinking we would probably do better to go out of the city and talk to some of the peasant people. The Gypsies are more likely to know about forest-dwelling elves than the city folk."

Jim nodded. "You're probably right about that," he agreed. "Do you have any idea where to start?"

"I was studying maps of the area," B'layr said. "The highest point in the Carpathians is Moldoveanu Peak, at 2,544 meters. If the Ancients are at all similar to our Tribes, they would seek the highest, most remote areas to live."

"Then we should look in that area," Jim agreed. He looked up and smiled at the girl who brought his dinner. On the plate were three cabbage rolls stuffed with spiced meat. Jim took a tentative bite after sniffing carefully. "Whoa!" He grabbed his glass of water and washed the food down his throat. "That's **_spicy_**!"

"You have to eat, Jim," B'layr said, reaching across the table to cover one of Jim's hands with his own. "Concentrate on your sense of taste and dial it back. On a scale of one to five, choose a two," he suggested.

Jim concentrated on the elf's instructions, paying special attention to his seared taste buds. The discomfort faded to a tolerable level, and he took another bite of the cabbage roll. As the exotic flavors tingled in his mouth, his grin grew wider. He nodded at B'layr. "Thanks, Hon. I can always count on you."

"You should know better by now," B'layr scolded softly. "But I am glad you feel better." He watched as Jim ate, considering their options for the quest. "There is a village near Moldoveanu Peak—Pestera," he said. "I think that would be a good place to begin."

"Do you know how to get there?" Jim asked between bites of his dinner.

B'layr shook his head. "Not precisely, but the maps are sufficiently detailed. There should not be a problem. Will you be renting a car, or shall we find a tour to take us there?"

"I think a rental would be best," Jim said, washing down the Sarmale with another sip of coffee. "It gives us more freedom of movement. We can come and go as we please."

"Can I get you anything else?" The young woman who had done most of the waiting on them approached their table.

"No, thank you," Jim said with a smile at the girl dressed in peasant clothing.

"Is there anything I can get for you?" she asked, turning to B'layr.

"Oh ... no.... No, thank you," B'layr said, startled out of his reverie. "I do not need anything."

The girl nodded and left them alone.

"I think we need to get you back to the room and get you to bed," Jim teased. "You're hardly here anymore."

"My mind is in the forests and the mountains," B'layr admitted. "To be so close.... There is something here calling to my soul, urging me forward. The Ancients do not wish further delay."

"Well, they're going to have to wait until morning, at least," Jim said, wiping his mouth on a napkin and then laying the cloth next to his plate. "Let's head back to our room. I can make the car rental arrangements and we can go over the maps. We'll get an early start in the morning."

"That would be well," the elf said with a sigh. "I do not know that I can stand the wait much longer."

Jim paid the bill and the two headed back to their room. After a brief call to the car rental company, Jim settled beside B'layr at the table to look over the maps.

"I think if we take this road," B'layr said, his finger tracing the slender, curving line on the map, "we could get to Pestera by mid-morning."

"We don't know what the roads are like here," Jim cautioned. "The drive could be slower."

"But we will start early," B'layr said, echoing Jim's previous comment. "We can be on the road before the sun rises."

"Well, if we're getting up that early, I'm going to bed," Jim said, rising from the chair and walking over to the bed where he turned back the spread and blankets.

B'layr rose from his place at the table and circled the bed to stand next to his mate. Reaching up, he began to work the buttons of Jim's shirt with nimble fingers. "I, too, am ready to retire for the night," he said, showering kisses on the broad expanse of chest revealed as he peeled the shirt back from his lover's shoulders.

"We need to **_sleep_** , Chief," Jim admonished, stroking his hand down the silken strands of hair as he cupped the back of B'layr's head and leaned down to capture the full lips. When the kiss broke, he cradled the precious face between his palms. "Think you can do that?"

"If I must," B'layr said with an air of disappointment.

"Think of it this way," Jim said as he began to undress his mate. "The sooner we get to sleep, the sooner we'll be on the road, and the sooner we'll find your—our—ancestors." He held up the blankets and waited while B'layr climbed onto the bed. Settling beside his soulmate, Jim pulled the covers over them both and wrapped an arm around the elf's waist.

B'layr scooted back into Jim's embrace, wiggling his butt against Jim's groin, but the Sentry refused to be baited. "Sleep," he commanded.

"Love you," B'layr murmured softly before closing his eyes.

"Love you too, my soul." Jim kissed an exposed shoulder before pulling the blanket up a bit higher and settling in to sleep.

~oO0Oo~

The sun was barely peeking over the horizon as the pair made their way north-northwest up the highway toward the village of Pestera and Moldoveanu Peak.

B'layr watched the scenery pass as they drove, noting the farmlands giving way to forests as the road wound higher and higher. "We are headed into the Transylvanian Alps," he said with a playful grin.

"Yeah, so...?" Jim asked. "Aren't you the one who told me vampires don't really exist?"

"True," B'layr agreed. "But is it not an adventure just the same, to be traveling into lands of fabled creatures?"

"Like elves?" Jim goaded playfully.

"Like elves," B'layr agreed. "And darker creatures like vampires and werewolves."

"But those don't exist," Jim clarified.

B'layr closed his eyes briefly and shook his head, praying for the strength to be delivered from the teasing of his mate. "No, they do not. Elves, on the other hand..."

"Elves **_do_** exist. Believe me, I don't doubt that," Jim said with a grin.

"But we are not endowed with the supernatural powers that legends and fairy tales bestow on us, either," B'layr finished.

"Do you suppose the elves of this region mingle with the peasants of the nearby villages?" Jim wondered. "Or have they isolated themselves like your tribe did before I arrived?"

"I do not know," B'layr said thoughtfully. "Although, the Gypsy people are freer to believe in such things, so there may be a connection."

"Maybe we can get some information out of the locals in town," Jim suggested. He stopped talking to concentrate on driving after he bumped over an unnoticed pothole. "Damn!" he swore, under his breath.

B'layr nodded. "It is likely they may know something, provided the elves live in the area."

Nearly three hours, and one hundred miles later, they arrived in the village of Pestera.

"This looks like a tourist town," B'layr said, disappointed. They drove past several shops bearing signs for Gypsy palm or tarot card readers, before pulling up in front of a small restaurant. "I doubt our people have much to do with the locals with so many outsiders around."

"One way to find out," Jim said, climbing out of the small car and stretching his cramped limbs. "How about lunch?"

B'layr chuckled and shook his head. "I can live with you another hundred years, and I'll never get used to how much you can eat."

Jim slapped the elf between the shoulder blades, and then wrapped his arm around the sturdy shoulders. "You're just jealous." He guided his mate into the establishment and they settled at a small table near the window.

"Hallo. Me som Nicu," the waiter introduced himself. "How may I serve you?" he asked, switching to English.

"How about some of those little sausage thingies?" Jim asked, waggling a finger at the menu that lay on the table.

"The Mititei?" Nicu asked. "Very good choice. They are served with buttered red potatoes," he added, collecting the menu and turning to B'layr. "And you, sir?"

B'layr looked up and shook his head. "Nothing for me, thank you."

" ** _Kesali_**!" whispered Nicu, making the sign of the cross over his chest and backing away.

"What's the matter with him?" B'layr asked, looking back over his shoulder at the retreating waiter.

Jim shrugged. "I don't know, but something sure spooked him."

An elderly man approached their table. He was dressed in the colorful clothing the tourists associated with the Gypsy population. "Hallo. I am Vaida Stefan. Nicu sent me to talk with you. One of you is _kesali_?"

B'layr shook his head. "We do not know what that means," he said. "Nicu said it, and then disappeared as if he had seen a ghost."

"We do not see many of the Veshengo these days," Stefan said, directing his words toward the elf. "I am afraid that your appearance startled him. Nicu is young. He does not know." He pulled out a chair and seated himself as though he had been invited. "' _Kesali_ ' is the Romani word for 'forest spirit'," he explained. "The Old Ones are sometimes thought of as spirits and legends by the young. Nicu's head is filled with visions of the modern world; he dreams of leaving his heritage and traveling. Like many of our young, he does not fully believe in the stories of his elders."

"What can you tell us of these forest spirits?" Jim asked, smiling at a nervous Nicu who came to bring him his lunch.

The young man glanced quickly at B'layr, and then hastened away from the table.

"Only that they are not spirits, but creatures not too unlike ourselves." Stefan reached across the distance that separated him from B'layr and brushed back a few strands of long hair. "They have the pointed ears and possess great knowledge of the forest. They are masters of herb lore and are skilled hunters." He captured B'layr's eyes with his steady gaze. "You would know of this?"

The elf let his gaze drop to the table and he studied his hands for a moment. Making a decision, he looked back up at the Gypsy chief. "I am one of their kindred," he began slowly. "From a tribe lost to the Ancients long ago. I come seeking my heritage and my people."

"Then you have come to the right place," Stefan told him. "The Veshengo live deep in the forests of the Carpathians. No longer do they mingle with the mortal folk. It must be at least fifty years since last I met with D'oru."

"D'oru?" Jim asked, looking up from his lunch. He had followed the conversation with interest, and now chose to take an active part.

"The Chieftain of the Veshengo," Stefan replied.

"You keep saying that," Jim commented. "Veshengo. What does it mean?"

"It means 'man of the forest'," the Vaida answered. Nicu brought a cup of tea and a pastry, and set them in front of the old man. "Nais tuke," he said, nodding at the waiter. "These creatures live out their lives in the deeps of the woods."

"We call ourselves elves," B'layr explained. "At least that is the term passed down through my tribe for our people."

"Elves..." the Vaida tried the term, savoring its flavor on his tongue. "Yes; it is the name given by those not of Romani blood to the woodland folk."

"Do you know where we can find D'oru?" Jim asked. "We've come a very long way in the hope of discovering our ancestors."

"I can point you in the proper direction," Stefan said, "but I cannot guarantee your success."

"What about Moldoveanu Peak?" B'layr interjected. "My people live high in the mountains of our region. I thought perhaps the elves here would do so as well."

"No longer on Moldoveanu," Stefan said, shaking his head. "The area has become too much of a tourist attraction. The highest peak in Romania lures many to climb."

"Then where?" asked B'layr, deflating slightly as his theory was knocked down.

"Not far," the Gypsy said, gesturing toward the door. "Many old forests are in the region and are populated by myth and legend."

"Do you know where we can get outfitted for a hike deep into the forest?" Jim asked. "A guide through the area would be even better."

"I can tell you where to get the supplies you will need for a long trek through the forest," Stefan said. "But I cannot guarantee you a guide. Too many of the young people do not believe; or like Nicu, do not **_wish_** to believe. The rest of us are just too old."

"Perhaps..." B'layr began, and then looked furtively at Jim. "Perhaps there is a way to guide me to the spirit plane? That way I can contact the Ancients directly and ask them to find and lead us."

"There are rituals ... yes," the Gypsy said, nodding. "I will see what I can do for you." With that, he pushed back his chair and stood up. "Where will you be staying?"

"We just got into town," Jim told him. "We don't have a room yet."

"Then you will stay with me and my wife," Stefan invited them. "Wait here."

As the Gypsy chieftain left the restaurant, Jim turned to B'layr with a frown. "You are **_not_** going to be taking anymore hallucinogenic potions."

B'layr held up his hands in a fending off gesture. "Let us see what Stefan has to say when he returns," he said, defensively. "I do not wish more than to find a way to our people." He sipped at a glass of water and watched as Jim sullenly finished his sausage and potatoes.

Stefan returned after a short absence, ushering a woman before him. "Gentlemen, this is my wife, Ana." He turned to the woman. "Ana, these men come to seek the Veshengo. This one..."

"B'layr," the elf supplied his name. "And this is my soulmate, Jim," he said waving a hand at his mate. Jim nodded at Ana, adding a slight smile.

"B'layr," Stefan continued, "is one of their people."

Ana leaned across the booth, and without asking permission, brushed the hair away from B'layr's ear. " _Kesali_ ," she whispered, blowing a puff of air into the ear. B'layr batted at her hand, covering the graceful point with his hair again. "We have not seen your people in many years. Why do you grace us with your presence now?"

"I-I am not who you think I am," stuttered B'layr. "I **_am_** an elf, yes; but not one from a tribe of which you are familiar."

"A Lost One?" Ana's words were filled with awe. "You have come home to us?"

"Home is a very long way away," Jim corrected her. "But we **_have_** come to find the elves that live in this area."

"They do not live very near here," Ana corrected. "But perhaps I can help guide you to them."

"Can you lead me on a spirit walk?" B'layr asked, looking into eyes that seemed even more ancient than the withered face that framed them.

"Ruv..." Ana whispered, studying B'layr with equal intensity. "The spirit of the wolf is about you. Yes, I can help you on your journey. Come." She stood up and held out her hand. B'layr rose from his seat and took the hand, allowing himself to be led from the restaurant.

"Hey!" Jim jumped up to follow. "You're not going anywhere without me, Imp!"

Laughter bubbled up from B'layr's throat as he reached behind to grab Jim's hand. "I would not wish to, my heart. We have made this journey together, we will see it through—together."

They followed the Gypsy couple across the street and several doors down to a garish shop that advertised tarot and palm readings. As they entered, Ana laughed and waved her hand at the lavish decorations in the main room. "For the tourists," she said, leading back into the couple's private living quarters. "Sit." She indicated a round table with a candle set in the center.

When everyone was settled, Ana took hold of B'layr's hand on her right and Jim's on her left. Stefan completed the circle by grasping the couple's free hands. "I cannot take you where you wish to go," she began. "But I can guide you on your journey. Watch the candle flame and think of your spirit guide. Let the wolf show you the way."

B'layr stared at the flickering flame, mesmerized by the play of motion and color. He felt himself pulled steadily toward the brightness, until all his vision encompassed was the brightness of the fire.

>>>>*<<<<

He stood in the woods, alone; yet not alone. A wolf trotted out from the underbrush and came to stand by his side. The animal sniffed him carefully, and then looked up at him with startling blue eyes. It turned and began to run back the way it had come, stopping to look over its shoulder to see if the elf was following.

Taking his cue, B'layr jogged after the wolf, following it deep into the forest. They wound their way along barely visible paths, deeper and deeper into the dimness of the ancient woods. At a swift running stream, the wolf halted and waited for the elf to catch up.

B'layr stopped at the bank and looked across the water. His own tribe had such a stream separating it from the outside world. As he watched, there was movement on the other side. An elf stepped out of hiding. "I am N'elu," he introduced himself. "You are the Seeker, the Honored One from the Lost Tribe."

"I am B'layr," he acknowledged. "I have come far seeking the Tribe of my origins."

"And you have found us at last," N'elu said. "Long have we monitored your journey to us. D'oru awaits you with impatience."

"We do not know the way," B'layr said. "My soulmate and I have journeyed from the other side of the world in search of our ancestors, and we have arrived, at last, in this place. Yet we do not know in what direction to take our final steps."

"Who has led you this far?" the elf asked, curious.

"A Gypsy woman—Ana," B'layr said. "She helped me to the spirit plane. But in the world, our feet do not know the path."

"Follow the road from town, away from the mountain. A day's journey by foot will bring you near the woodlands you seek. A Sentry will wait for you there." N'elu turned to leave.

"Wait! Please do not go!" B'layr shouted across the water that separated him from the Shaman.

"D'oru waits," N'elu repeated, turning to disappear into the deep undergrowth.

>>>>*<<<<

"Please do not go!" B'layr cried, breaking the circle to reach out toward the unseen elf.

"B'layr!" Jim's voice brought the elf back into the room; back to the circle around the table. Reaching across the tabletop, he grasped both of the elf's hands and stared into the haunted blue eyes. "What did you see?"

"The Shaman of the Ancients," B'layr whispered. "He said the chieftain awaits us and to come quickly." He turned to Stefan. "We will need a day's supply of food and water."

"That I can get for you, as well as sleeping bags and a tent, if you wish," the Vaida said. "Anything you need, just tell me."

"The food and water will be enough," B'layr said gratefully. "Our people will provide the rest."

"You know where to find them?" asked Ana.

"I was told," B'layr answered, remaining vague. Seeing the disappointed look on the Gypsy woman's face, he added, "If they wish to make themselves known to men again, they will tell you. Until then, I must honor the implied request to keep their location a secret. I suspect," he continued, "that were it not for all the outsiders, the elves would mingle more with your people. You understand and respect their ways, but the tourists would not."

"They preserve a truly ancient way of life," Stefan agreed. "I will wait for D'oru to summon me. Until then, I will do what I can to outfit you."

"You will stay here for the night," Ana insisted. "Leave by the morning light and travel the roads under the sun."

"Thank you," B'layr said, nodding in acknowledgment. "We appreciate your hospitality."

Jim circled the table to join B'layr. "I'll help Stefan gather the supplies. We'll only need enough for a day?"

"And mainly for you," B'layr said, smiling. "I will take sustenance in the morning before we leave. We will be met by a Sentry of the Tribe before the sun sets."

The next morning, the elf was filled with excitement, hardly able to stand still. He bounced on the balls of his feet as he waited for Jim to shrug into the backpack that carried their supplies.

"Thank you very much for your help," Jim told the old Gypsy chieftain. He dug into his pants for his wallet and extracted a fifty-dollar bill. "For the supplies and your trouble," he said, holding the money out to Stefan.

The man shook his head. "No. I will not take it," he said. "I do this in memory of the Honored Old Ones. You can repay me by returning with many tales to entertain an old man."

B'layr was already outside, pacing in front of the small business-home. "We'll do our best," Jim promised, walking out into the bright sun of the early morning.

"Zhan le Devlesa tai sastimasa," Stefan called out the blessing. The Gypsy couple watched until the two strangers had followed the bend in the road and disappeared from sight. Stefan put an arm around his wife. "I am content to know the Veshengo still walk the earth," he said with a sigh. Ana smiled and turned to kiss her husband.

~oO0Oo~

"How much further is it?" Jim asked, taking a break after several hours of walking down the road.

"N'elu said it was a day's journey from the town," B'layr reminded him.

"And why didn't we take the car?" Jim sighed, rubbing his feet.

B'layr came to sit beside his mate. "Because how do we judge a day's **_walk_** in the car?" he asked. "And besides, the vehicle might scare off the elf sent to meet us."

"Would it have scared you?" Jim wondered.

"It has been many years since anything with an engine has frightened me," B'layr mused. "But, yes. I was terrified the first time I encountered a motor vehicle. They are noisy and fast, and smell very, very bad."

Jim chuckled. "You got that right! When my Sentry senses kicked in, I couldn't stand the smell of exhaust."

"It is not good for you," B'layr added. "It is better that we walk."

Jim rummaged in the pack and pulled out a sandwich and an apple. "Want anything? Stefan made sure there was more than enough."

"I broke my fast this morning," B'layr reminded him. "There will undoubtedly be a feast of welcome for us, and I wish to be able to participate in that."

"To each his own," Jim said with a shrug. "Whatever is in this is really delicious."

"Enjoy your meal. We still have a long way to go," the elf chided, pushing at a pebble on the road with the tip of his boot.

Jim stretched out his legs in front of him, crossing them at the ankles and leaned against a tree at his back. "This really is beautiful country," he mused, looking around at the increasingly forested countryside. "There's so much history and legend here."

"It does not surprise me that this is the homeland of our people," B'layr added. "I imagine in ages past, that they mingled much more freely with the people around here. Undoubtedly, they are the basis of some of the legends."

"Woodland sprites, imps, nymphs, fairies..." Jim enumerated. "Yeah, I could see it."

"But I do not remind you of any of those creatures of myth, do I?" B'layr prodded, grinning at his mate.

"Oh, no. Of course not, Imp," Jim teased in return. "No one would ever mistake you for a sprite or a nymph ... a fairy ... maybe."

" ** _You_** are a goddamned **_fairy_** ," B'layr exploded, swatting at his unrepentant mate.

"Time out! Time out!" Jim said, making the "T" symbol with his hands. He was laughing so hard, he almost choked on the bite of sandwich he was chewing.

"Oh my God, Jim! Are you all right?" B'layr was instantly at his side, pounding between his mate's shoulder blades. "Here, try a drink of water." He put the canteen to Jim's mouth and tipped a few droplets of water into his mouth.

"I'm okay! I'm okay!" Jim sputtered, still laughing and choking on a few remaining crumbs. "Remind me never to tease you when I'm eating."

B'layr plopped down in the dirt next to Jim, a hand still resting on the other man's knee. "You scared me! Please, do not do that."

"Sorry. My fault," Jim apologized. Wadding up the sandwich wrapper, he stuffed it back in his pack and stood up. "Ready to get moving?" He reached down to give B'layr a hand up. The elf stood with a fluid grace that still amazed the Sentry, and began walking alongside him.

"By the looks of these woods, I wouldn't think we have much farther to go," B'layr commented after they'd been walking for a few minutes. "All my spirit walks have shown a forest much like this one."

"Is this Sentry scout going to meet us on the road?" Jim asked, wondering if a local elf would show himself that boldly.

B'layr shook his head. "I do not know. But I think it would not be wise to traipse off into the woods on our own. If we are not close, we could become lost and the Tribe may never find us."

"Then we keep walking," Jim said. "There's still a good five hours of daylight left."

The couple continued their trek up the narrow country road. Occasionally, they met a car coming into or out of Pestera, but for the most part, they traveled alone. The sun, although still fairly high in the sky, began to dip below the tops of the tallest trees.

B'layr squinted up at the bright rays stabbing through the branches. "We must be near," he said finally. "There is not a lot of useful daylight left."

"I wish I'd taken some of that camping gear that Vaida Stefan offered us," Jim said, a note of regret in his voice.

"They will find us," B'layr said, confident of his vision. He stopped suddenly, reaching out to grab Jim's arm and halt his forward progress as well. Ahead of them in the middle of the road, stood a gray wolf.

The animal locked eyes with B'layr, and then trotted off into the woods at their left.

"Come!" B'layr tugged at Jim's shirt as he passed to follow the creature into the woods. When Jim hesitated, the elf stopped to explain. "He is the embodiment of my spirit animal. The elves of this place have sent him ahead to bring us to them."

Jim trailed after his mate into the shadows of the giant trees. Deeper and deeper into the gloom, they followed the light-footed wolf.

"You have come." The disembodied voice seemed to come from somewhere in front of them. A soft rustle of feet on a bed of pine needles drew their attention slightly to the left. An elf stepped out of the shadows to greet them. "I am F'lorin, Scout and Sentry for the Tribe. D'oru bids you welcome. Come with me." He turned and began to head deeper into the forest.

B'layr trotted to catch up. "Does your tribe have a name?" he asked. "I am from the former Wolf Tribe. It recently merged with the other tribes in our region to form an entity we call the Ten Tribes."

"We are the Tribe," F'lorin said. "We were the first; there is no need for another designation."

"How long?" B'layr asked in awe. "How long have your people been here?"

"Uncounted generations," the Sentry answered. "We remember when a splinter group, unhappy with the current chieftain, decided to travel and explore _perdal l paya_. We thought them mad and wrote them off as lost."

"My ancestors," B'layr said, shaking his head. "I wondered why, why would they leave?"

"Long have we hungered to reunite," F'lorin told his guest. "But until you first journeyed to the spirit realm, we did not know if the Lost Tribe survived."

"Survived and flourished," Jim added, coming up beside B'layr. "And all the while, kept under the radar of civilization."

"Under the radar?" F'lorin looked confused.

"Yeah, you know..." Jim said, gesturing helplessly. "They managed to stay hidden. The humans who were so very close to the Tribe's camp, never suspected. We always thought that elves were myth and legend."

"We?" F'lorin asked, pausing to take a closer look at Jim. "You are not _kesali_."

"No ... and yes," Jim answered. "I always thought I was as human as the next guy, but it turns out that many generations back, I had an elven ancestor. That's how I got these damn Sentry senses."

"The senses were bred out of our people," B'layr explained. "We had lost the Gift, until Jim found me, injured, in the woods. He tended my wound and we mated."

"It's a long story," Jim interrupted. "But the short of it is that through our offspring, the Ten Tribes now have Sentries again."

"It is good," F'lorin agreed.

They walked deeper into the darkening woods. Tiny lights, like fireflies, began to flicker in the distance.

"Hoya, G'hita!" F'lorin called out the greeting.

"Hoya, F'lorin," the scout hailed back.

"I have brought the Lost Ones," F'lorin said, gesturing to his companions.

G'hita nodded. "D'oru has prepared the feast of welcome. Come, Honored Guests." He gestured for them to come forward.

Jim and B'layr stepped toward the elven scout, while F'lorin dropped behind to take up the rear of the procession.

Presently, they stepped into a clearing lit with a huge bonfire. Trestle tables groaned with the weight of the food and drink set upon them. Already the musicians played their tunes and some of the elves were dancing.

The chieftain of the Tribe stepped forward to greet their guests. "We are well met," D'oru said, extending his hands and clasping those of B'layr and Jim. "Welcome. Welcome home."

B'layr allowed himself to be pulled into the circle of firelight by the chieftain. He looked around in wonder, eyes wide—taking in everything at once. "I cannot believe we are really here." The words were soft and breathy, and made D'oru smile.

"We have long looked for your return," the chieftain said. "But come, you have much to tell us. We have many generations separating our people." He led them to the tables and gave them platters for the food.

They settled near the fire, enjoying the feast in silence for the first few minutes. D'oru finally broke the quiet. "T'yoma of the Reindeer Tribe sent word of your meeting."

"You communicate with them?" B'layr asked, surprised. "They are many days distant from here."

"Our Shaman, N'elu, walks the spirit plane with R'slan on a regular basis. Through them, our tribes stay in touch," D'oru explained.

"Better than a telephone," Jim joked, chuckling.

"It is an efficient way to communicate," D'oru agreed. "We heard many interesting tales of your journey. Would you speak more of them to us?"

B'layr nodded. "It has been quite an adventure to get here," he began. "The journey began over twenty-five Turns-of-Seasons ago, when I literally tripped over a stone in our garden...." The tale spun out as the night continued, gathering more and more of the celebrating elves as curiosity drew them in. "It was T'yoma who directed us here at last," he concluded much later.

"That was quite a journey," D'oru agreed when the telling was done. "To venture into the world of men and seek an education for the sole purpose of finding your lost relations is quite an undertaking." He turned to Jim. "Now, you must tell us how an Outsider became one with the tribe."

"Another long story," Jim said, chuckling. "It started with a routine camping trip with my boss. I went to take a walk in the woods, to give my wild senses a chance to quiet down, and I found B'layr, wounded by a hunter."

"I recognized him as my soulmate almost immediately," B'layr chimed in. "But he would not believe."

"Until nine months later when the Imp here, shows up practically at my doorstep, looking like he swallowed a watermelon whole," Jim added.

"I needed to be with my mate for the birth," B'layr insisted, nudging Jim playfully with his shoulder. "And a good thing, or I would have died in childbirth."

"N'elu says the Reindeer Healer reported you have no womb," D'oru said, aghast at the idea.

"It is true that I lost my ability to Bear after three miscarriages," B'layr acknowledged. "My second pregnancy was my undoing. Another difficult birth damaged me beyond my ability to carry. Had I not had the surgery, I would have died."

"You have had a hard life," D'oru said, shaking his head. "Perhaps N'elu can help."

"There is nothing to be done," B'layr said, dropping his gaze.

"Do not underestimate your people," the chieftain chided. "We are the Ancients; the Elders of this world."

"Just how old are you?" Jim asked, looking directly at the elf chief.

"I am seven hundred and eighty-three," D'oru intoned. "N'elu was an elfling when your Tribe left our shores. His years number over one thousand."

B'layr shook his head. "It cannot be. Lifespans rarely exceed two hundred years for our tribe."

"Your blood has been thinned by interbreeding," D'oru explained. "That your mate has elven genes, and yet remains an Outsider, is proof of that."

"I'm no Outsider," Jim protested vehemently. "At least, I haven't been for many years. I'm a part of the Ten Tribes; as much a member as our children."

"You have given the Gift back to your Tribe's people, and for that, all elvenkind is indebted to you," D'oru said, tipping his head in acknowledgement. "But you cannot deny the role you played in your mate's loss."

"The fault lies with no one," B'layr interrupted as Jim began to rise. A gentle hand settled his mate, whose anger was beginning to stew at the insinuations.

"Will you allow N'elu to help you?" D'oru asked. "He is skilled as a Healer."

"There is no healing for me," B'layr said, a note of sadness in his voice. In quiet recognition of B'layr's disappointment, Jim wrapped the elf in his arms and pulled him back against his chest. B'layr settled into his mate's lap, tipping his head back to rest on Jim's shoulder. Their lips met in a tender kiss. When they separated again, N'elu was standing next to them.

"Let me see what I may do for you, Honored One," the Healer said, holding out his hand. "You should not underestimate the abilities of your ancestors."

B'layr glanced quickly at Jim, and then shrugged and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. N'elu guided him over to a platform. "Disrobe and lie here," he said, indicating the pile of furs on the raised surface.

The elf stripped and climbed the steps to the platform, lying where the Healer had indicated. N'elu knelt beside him, his hands resting over B'layr's lower abdomen and genitals.

Jim had followed, and now approached the platform where his lover lay, exposed to the eyes of the entire Tribe.

"No!" N'elu looked up and pinned Jim with his gaze. "Do not approach any closer."

Jim halted, waiting to see what the Healer would do next.

The elf began chanting in an ancient tongue, his hands never leaving their place over B'layr's reproductive system.

"Unghhhh..." the moan issued from B'layr's throat as a strangled sound. His head began tossing side to side as tears sprang to his tightly closed eyes. "Oh God! Jim, help!" He reached an arm out, groping for his mate.

Jim lunged forward at the cry, only to be restrained by several sets of strong arms. "Let me go! That bastard is **_hurting_** B'layr!" He struggled, bringing all his strength to the battle, only to be defeated by the sheer number of his captors.

"N'elu is repairing the damage done," D'oru said calmly. "He means no harm to your mate. B'layr was a Blessed One, and he will be again."

"I don't care **_what_** he thinks he's doing," Jim shouted. "B'layr's in pain!" Another cry and a whimper came from the platform. B'layr's soulful blue eyes, wet with tears, searched for his lover's, silently asking why he wasn't there when he was needed. "Let me go to him."

"All in good time. From pain comes great blessing, great joy," D'oru said. "A birthing is not without pain, and yet one cannot deny that the result is cause for great celebration. So, too, shall it be tonight. There is yet magic in the world."

"Oh, owww.... Oh God, Jim..." B'layr continued to cry out in his pain, all the while lying with an unnatural stillness.

Finally, N'elu removed his hands and pulled a blanket over the sweat-soaked body of his patient. Descending from the platform, he turned to Jim. "He is yours again." The elves holding the Sentry released him, and Jim ran forward to soothe his exhausted mate. "He will need to rest tonight. A sleeping hut shall be provided." The Healer turned away, leaving the celebration gathering.

D'hita stepped forward. "Follow me," he said to Jim.

Jim scooped up his sleeping mate, cradling the precious body close to his own as he followed the young Sentry out of the circle of firelight and toward a small structure lined with sleeping furs. "Thank you," he told his guide with a nod of dismissal. D'hita turned away as Jim settled his lover in the furs. Stretching out beside his exhausted mate, Jim wrapped a protective arm around him, a shield against any more intrusions.

B'layr slept the rest of the night and most of the next day. Blue eyes blinked open in confusion as the last rays of the evening sun peeked through the thick branches of the trees. "Where...? What happened?"

"Shhh ... shhh, Baby. It's all right," Jim soothed, brushing some errant strands of hair away from the sleepy eyes. He leaned down to press a soft kiss against parted lips. "We're in a sleeping hut. N'elu sent us here after the healing last night. How much do you remember?"

"I-I remember telling the tales," B'layr whispered. "And then going to the platform..."

"Do you remember what the Healer did to you?" Jim prodded, pulling the shivering body closer.

"He laid his hands on me."

"And...?"

"I do not know," B'layr said softly. "I remember a pain, deep in my gut; not unlike birthing pangs. I wanted only for it to stop, but I could not move, and you would not come. Why, Jim? Why?"

"They wouldn't let me 'interfere'," Jim said with a note of disgust. "I tried, my soul. Believe me, I tried."

"I believe you, my heart." B'layr pulled an arm from beneath the blanket and gripped Jim's shoulder. "How long did I sleep?"

"The rest of the night and most of today," Jim told him, glancing out at the darkening forest. "How do you feel?"

"I have an ache, deep within me," B'layr said, monitoring his body closely. "But it is not severe. I am well."

"Hungry?" Jim asked with a smile.

"Are you kidding?" B'layr struggled to sit up and Jim helped him, supporting his back until he gained his balance. "I ate enough to keep me filled for a **_week_**!" He smiled at his mate. "But you must be starved, if you've stayed with me all this while. Come." With a bit of effort, he made it to his feet and offered a hand to help Jim up. The Sentry handed him his clothes, and B'layr dressed quickly.

Jim led the way back to the campsite where the bonfire had burned the night before. Elves were busy piling kindling and wood for a new fire while the musicians tuned their instruments. D'oru sat in conversation with the Healer on the other side of the clearing. Both looked up as Jim and B'layr entered.

"How are you feeling tonight, Honored One?" N'elu asked, approaching the couple.

B'layr rested a palm over his abdomen as he spoke. "There is still some discomfort, but I am well."

N'elu reached out to cover B'layr's hand with his own. Closing his eyes, he concentrated for several moments, and then looked up. B'layr met his eyes with wonder. "The pain is gone."

The Healer nodded. "It is as it should be. Come. There is still much celebrating to do in honor of your arrival."

The couple followed N'elu to where D'oru sat across the clearing. The chieftain rose to greet his guests. "It is good to see you looking well," he said to B'layr. "Last night we told tales and filled in the missing years with knowledge. Tonight we dance and celebrate."

"Is there food this night?" B'layr asked. "I am still replete, but Jim must eat daily."

"Surely." D'oru gestured toward a much smaller trestle than the night before, still heavy with succulent choices.

Jim filled a platter and sat to watch as B'layr undressed and allowed the tribe members to paint his body with the colorful symbols of his life. Many of the elves, similarly painted, had already begun to dance around the newly lit bonfire.

When the painting was finished, B'layr came over to where Jim sat and took his hand, drawing him up. "It is time, my heart." Sensuously long fingers began to work the buttons of Jim's shirt, slowly undressing him. When he stood naked, B'layr picked up a bowl of paint and dipped his fingers, drawing designs across Jim's chest and shoulders. "You are my strength; like a tree with deep roots that withstands the storm." He dipped into another bowl, painting a different color across Jim's ribs and around his back to his buttocks. "You are my provider; swift as the deer." Again, with yet another color, B'layr's fingers drew whorls across Jim's forehead and down his cheeks and neck. "You are my wisdom, my senses, my heart; never failing." Jim trembled at the delicate touch, the softly spoken words. His heart pounded in his chest and he felt his temperature rise as B'layr dipped his fingers into a fourth bowl, weaving lines of paint down his inner thighs and around his calves to his ankles. "You are my protector; quick to come to my aid." The elf took a deep breath, dipping his fingers into the final bowl and painting the designs across Jim's abdomen, down to his groin; tracing a spiral pattern up the shaft of the erect cock, feeling it twitch with anticipation as he pronounced the ritual blessing. "You are my lover, Sire of my offspring; you fill my soul as you fill my body and leave me wanting for nothing." B'layr tipped his head to look up into eyes soft with love. For the moment, they were alone; unaware and uncaring of anything outside the two of them.

The spell was broken when a lively beat of drums replaced the mellow woodwind flutes. B'layr took Jim's hand and led him toward where the other elves danced. Closing his eyes, the elf let the music flow over him, taking him to another plane where nothing existed but the beat of the drums and the heat of the body pressed against his.

Over the years, as Jim had become more comfortable with the elves' ritual dances, he had come to anticipate watching his mate writhe to the sensuous rhythms, his naked body glistening with a golden glow in the light of the fire. His whole body tensed with arousal at the sight, his senses off the map: smelling, seeing, tasting, hearing, touching only B'layr. The mating scent was strong on the elf, almost visible in its intensity. Jim's hard cock ached to be inside his mate, to pound the willing body with the force of his thrusts, to bury himself to the balls in the tight, velvet passage.

The music was having a similar effect on many of the Tribe members. Elves were pairing off; the sounds of grunts and moans echoing around the clearing as the orgy got underway.

B'layr wrapped himself around his lover, bringing their cocks into alignment, pressed between their bodies. The electric shock of that touch nearly sent Jim over the edge. He picked the elf up off his feet, waiting for the nimble creature to wrap his legs tightly around Jim's waist. Then the Sentry made his way from the circle of the bonfire, back to the sleeping hut from where they had so recently come.

B'layr dropped to the furs and rolled onto his stomach. With a ferocity of need rivaling a great jungle cat, Jim pounced on the prone figure burying himself within in a single thrust. B'layr rose up onto his knees, bringing his larger mate with him and tipped his head back to let out a howl. Jim wrapped his fingers around the pulsing cock of his mate and leaned down to bite hard into B'layr's left shoulder, drawing blood.

B'layr grunted and thrust backward, forcing Jim to move. With the mating scent overpowering his senses, Jim drove forcefully into his lover in a pounding rhythm that set B'layr rocking on hands and knees.

The elf gasped as he felt his climax build. He rocked desperately, forcing Jim's fist to pump the straining organ. "Jiiiim! Oh God, ohgodohgodohgod!" B'layr cried as he arched backward with the force of his orgasm, nearly unseating his mate.

Recovering quickly, Jim picked up the pace of his own thrusts once again, feeling the channel tighten around him to milk his own climax a short time later. Exhausted from the heated mating, the couple collapsed in the furs, falling almost immediately into a deep sleep.

Before dawn the next morning, B'layr rolled over in Jim's arms to face his lover, placing a soft kiss against the parted lips. Jim murmured something too softly for even the elf to hear, and blinked open his eyes. "Good morning, my heart," B'layr greeted him, emphasizing his words with another kiss. "Are you all right?"

"What happened?" Jim asked, coming up on one elbow to gaze down on his mate. His hair was rumpled from sleep, and he looked as though he'd pulled an all-nighter from back in the days when he worked for the police department.

"Do you not remember?" the elf asked, concern lacing his voice.

Jim shook the fog from his mind. "I remember music and dancing, and you painting my body," he said with a smile. "God, you were beautiful!" He sighed and stopped talking.

"Anything else?"

"Well..." Jim thought a moment. "The mating scent was strong on you last night," he finally confessed. "I think I all but zoned on the scent. Did we have sex?"

"Oh, yes," B'layr answered, rubbing his shoulder with a rueful grin. "You haven't taken me like that in many years."

"Then why don't I remember?" Jim asked, sounding a bit concerned himself. "I don't like the idea that I could hurt you and not remember."

"There is magic in this place," B'layr admitted. "Magic that our tribes have long forgotten existed. The Ancients are the same as us, yet very different. I do not know what this means." He placed a hand against his belly. "I-I feel **_pregnant_** , but yet, that is impossible. Perhaps something I ate is just now making itself known to me."

"I know how to make you feel better," Jim said, petting the long hair and brushing it behind the elf's ear. He leaned across the short gap that separated them to give his lover another kiss, letting his hand trail down the slope of his side to the swell of his buttocks. With that gentle touch, the elf felt himself getting hard. He pressed against his larger mate and rubbed the newly awakened ache against the hard muscles of Jim's abs. "This time we take it slow," the Sentry instructed. "I want to remember every touch, every sensation."

B'layr flinched slightly as his mate's hand drifted to the crack in his butt, teasing the tight muscle of his anus. The hand was quickly withdrawn. "Oh, God ... I hurt you, didn't I?" Jim moaned, watching B'layr's facial muscles relax as he withdrew. "I knew I hurt you."

"I am only a little sore," B'layr admitted. "It will pass. It was worth it, Love." His hand rested against Jim's cheek, calming him. "Perhaps you would allow me, this time?"

Jim rolled over and spooned up against his mate. B'layr proceeded to gently stretch the tight opening. Droplets of pre-come on his penis eased the passage of the organ into his lover's body.

B'layr's strokes started shallow and slow. It hadn't been so long that the elf had forgotten about the sweet spot, and he took special effort to angle his movement to brush over the sensitive nub with each deepening thrust.

Jim's body took notice, his own erection growing to painful proportions. "Ohhhhh...." he moaned, squirming his butt against B'layr's groin as the elf massaged his prostate. "God, Chief ... more, Sweetheart..." he begged.

B'layr picked up his pace, hitting the nub with each inward thrust until Jim was reduced to a patter of "oh! oh! oh! oh! oh!" in repeated bursts. The elf reached around to tweak erect nipples, eliciting a drawn out "ohhhhhhhhhhh, Goddddddd..." from the writhing man. His fist locked around Jim's cock, bringing an almost instantaneous orgasm to his highly aroused mate.

As he felt his own climax build, B'layr buried himself to the hilt and pressed feather-light kisses across Jim's shoulders. "Unghhhhhh..." he groaned as pleasure and pain mingled to produce his orgasm. His cock pulsed, shooting seed deep within his lover. One hand played over Jim's limp cock, while the other combed languidly through the short hair. "Thank you, my heart. That was beautiful."

Jim stilled the hand that teased his cock, pressing it against his groin. Twisting, he managed to land a kiss on B'layr's lips before closing his eyes and falling back into an exhausted slumber. B'layr joined him and they slept until two hours after sunrise.

Still naked and decorated in the smeared paints from the night before, Jim and B'layr made their way back to the clearing. N'elu greeted them. "Good morning, Honored Ones. I trust the night went well?"

Jim opened his mouth to comment, but B'layr interrupted before he could speak. "I do not feel altogether well," he admitted, "but otherwise, the night was joyful."

N'elu approached and laid a hand low across B'layr's belly. He closed his eyes and concentrated on his inner sight. "You are with child," he pronounced a few moments later. "The mating scent was heavy on you last night."

"That it was," Jim agreed readily. "But it's not possible for B'layr to be pregnant."

"I cannot carry," B'layr agreed. "I have no womb. You must be mistaken."

N'elu shook his head. "I am not. I healed you."

"That's impossible!" Jim blurted. "You can't re-grow an organ overnight."

"Believe what you will," N'elu said with a shrug. "But know that there is still magic in the world. In one Turn of the seasons, you will see that I am correct." He turned to go, and then stopped and looked back at the couple. "I go to D'oru to prepare the Blessing ceremony."

When the Healer had left, Jim turned to look at his mate. B'layr was standing with his head bowed, hands over his belly.

"It can't be true," Jim whispered. "He must be mistaken."

B'layr took a deep breath and looked up at his lover. "I do not think that he is," he said softly. "It has been a long while, but I have not forgotten what conception feels like."

"You're healed?" The look in Jim's eyes was incredulous. He gathered the elf into his arms and held on tightly, burying his face in the fragrant curls. "You're pregnant? Oh, my God.... B'layr ... What do you want to do?"

"I-I wish to g-go home," the elf sniffled, both thrilled and frightened by the prospect of another pregnancy. "I do not wish to be Blessed here. These are not my people. This is not my Tribe. N'elu has given me a great gift, but I cannot Bear it here."

"Then we'd better tell them before they get all worked up over the idea," Jim said, peeling away from his mate.

They walked hand-in-hand across the clearing to where the two Elders held their conference.

"B'layr!" D'oru rose to meet his guest. "N'elu has told me the good news. Congratulations."

"Thank you, Ancient Chief," B'layr answered. "Sir, I do not wish to offend, but I will not submit to a Blessing ceremony here. I must return to my Tribe, to the home where my child will be raised."

"You have a home here," D'oru explained, gesturing to encompass their forest camp. "We **_are_** your people. You have come home to us."

"Begging your pardon, but we never intended to stay," B'layr clarified. "It was my wish to find our origins, to reconnect with our ancestry, but this is not **_home_**."

D'oru nodded. "I understand. I cannot imagine leaving this place for even a short while, much less never returning to it," he said. "If you must go, take my gift with you." He reached out, placing his hands on the heads of his guests. "May you live for a thousand years and Bear many Tribes."

"Thank you," B'layr said when the blessing was ended. "You have been most kind to receive us, and to give us so great a gift."

"There is one last ritual you must attend," D'oru said, smiling. He looked on the skeptical faces of his guests. "Let F'lorin take you to our sacred pool to bathe away the paints. Cleanse yourselves in preparation for the new life."

F'lorin approached from behind the couple, touching them gently on the shoulders. "Come," he said, gesturing toward the north.

They followed the Sentry deep into the forest, until the tinkling sound of falling water reached their ears. "I will leave you here," F'lorin said. "The ritual should be performed in private. Can you make your own way back, or shall I wait?"

"I can follow the trail," Jim assured their guide. "Thank you."

F'lorin turned to leave, and the couple made their way forward. A mountain waterfall, fifty feet high, spilled into a sparkling pool of deep emerald. B'layr waded knee deep in the cold water, and then dove beneath the surface with a dolphin-like grace. He broke the surface in the middle of the pool, shaking the water from his hair. "Come, Jim! Swim with me!"

Jim started into the pool, but stopped ankle-deep. "I can't swim here, Chief," he said, shaking his head. "I'll freeze my balls off."

"It is **_invigorating_** ," the elf challenged. "Besides, now that I am pregnant, it will not matter if your virility is temporarily stunted."

"It matters to me," Jim complained.

B'layr shook his head and laughed. "Get that fine butt of yours in here!" he ordered. "We must bathe, so that we may return home all the sooner."

Their weeks of traveling the world spilled through Jim's memory, and suddenly he wanted nothing more than to curl on their couch in front of the fire in their own cabin. Braving the water, he dove in and swam out to where B'layr waited.

The paints rinsed easily from their bodies, and after several minutes of vigorous swimming, the caked on semen had soaked away as well. Clean, they made their way to shore and found that F'lorin had returned to leave them towels and clean clothing.

They dried and dressed, and then Jim led them back to the camp.

"You will stay one more night," D'oru insisted. "We will eat and celebrate the conception. In the morning, we will see that you have enough supplies to make it back to Pestera."

~oO0Oo~

They walked the road to Pestera with lighter feet, making their way back to the town by late afternoon. Ana was walking from the bakery with sweet rolls for the evening's meal when she spotted the couple approaching from up the road.

"Stefan! Stefan! They have returned!" she called into the door of the shop.

The Gypsy man came out to the sidewalk and held his arms wide in greeting. "Welcome back, friends!"

"Hey, Stefan!" Jim smiled and walked right into the older man's arms for a hug. Ana wrapped her arms around B'layr, squeezing until the elf let out a tiny yelp.

"You will join us for dinner!" the Vaida insisted. "And tell us those tales you promised."

"A deal's a deal," Jim agreed, attracted by the delicious smell coming from the sack Ana carried.

They followed the couple inside. B'layr sank onto the couch and curled up, closing his eyes.

"What is wrong with the _kesali_?" Ana asked, concerned over the pale, drawn features.

"He'll be fine," Jim assured her. "Just let him rest. I'll tell you all about it at dinner."

When the three were settled around the table to eat, Ana threw one last glance over her shoulder at the sleeping elf. "You are sure he's all right?"

"He's pregnant," Jim said by way of explanation. "The walk back took most of his reserve strength. He ate last night. All he needs now is rest."

The Gypsies stared in wonder. "Pregnant, you say?" Stefan asked, casting a glance at the curled figure on the couch.

"It's the way with elves," Jim said with a shrug. "They're more different from us than they look."

"Tell us the tales," Stefan insisted. "I can sense there is much to learn."

The storytelling went long into the night. When it was finally time to retire, Jim curled on the floor next to the couch where B'layr lay. The elf was sleeping peacefully, and Jim didn't have the heart to disturb him in order to move him to a bed.

In the morning, they climbed back into their car, prepared for a long day's drive back to Bucharest. Jim had to stop several times so that B'layr could lose a little more of his stomach contents as the long weeks of morning sickness began to kick in.

"If nothing else, that proves it," Jim sighed after their third stop. "You never get sick unless you're pregnant."

"Just get me home," B'layr moaned, resting his head against the cool glass of the passenger side window.

When they arrived in Bucharest, Jim checked them back into their room at the Sky Gate Hotel and called the airport for reservations on a flight home. He came to kneel next to the toilet where B'layr was resting from another bout of nausea.

"We can get you something to help with that," he said. "There's bound to be some sort of anti-nausea pill we can pick up at a pharmacy."

"I will be all right," B'layr insisted, hating to take any chemical medications unless they couldn't be avoided.

"You know, if the airline thinks you're really sick, they may not let you board," Jim said. "With everything that's been going on lately, they hate taking chances."

"So what do you propose we do?" B'layr asked. "I do not wish to stay here until the birth of our child, and we cannot tell the world I am pregnant."

"We could..." Jim said, considering the possibilities.

"Aw, Jim ... Do we have to?" B'layr asked, knowing what his mate was about to suggest.

Jim shrugged. "You never used to object to wearing dresses in public."

"I am more worldly-wise now," B'layr informed him. "I have got my goddamned Masters degree in Anthropology ... and you want to put me in a dress?"

"With that hair," Jim fingered the long strands, "and a little make-up, I think we could get away with it."

"Huh-uh. No way; no make-up. This elf puts his foot down on that idea."

"But you'll wear the dress?"

"We can tell them it is morning sickness?" B'layr asked, weakening. He was so anxious to go home that he could almost taste the anticipation.

Jim nodded. "If they think we're husband and wife," he said. "Your name works either way. All we have to do is dress you up."

"All right," the elf conceded. "But you will have to do the shopping. I do not feel well enough to be going out."

"Deal." Jim rubbed circles between B'layr's shoulder blades and then gave him a hand up. "Think you can rest for a little bit?" B'layr nodded, and Jim led him over to the bed. "Just close your eyes, and I'll be back as fast as I can manage. Need anything before I go?" B'layr shook his head, his eyes already shut.

Jim returned within an hour with a dress he figured B'layr could fit into. It had been difficult finding comfortable shoes in the elf's size, but he had finally managed a sandal that would do the trick. He laid the clothes out on the table and called for a pizza delivery before settling in one of the overstuffed chairs and turning on the TV.

B'layr woke later in the evening, and nibbled on a slice of leftover pizza.

"Feeling better?" Jim asked, coming to sit next to B'layr on the bed.

"Yeah, some," the elf replied. "Did you get the dress?"

Jim nodded and pointed to the table where a deep blue mid-calf length dress lay displayed. "I thought it would bring out the color of your eyes."

B'layr leaned in to give his mate a kiss. "You think of everything, my heart."

"Our flight leaves in the morning at 7:53. We'll have to change planes in London and New York, and then it's straight on home," Jim said, wrapping an arm around his lover.

"I can hardly wait," B'layr sighed. "It has been a very long trip."

"Are you ready to sleep yet?" Jim quizzed. "After all, you just woke up."

"I am still tired," B'layr admitted. "It has been a stressful last couple of days."

"Shower now, or in the morning?"

The elf considered the question briefly. "Now. I should like to sleep as late as possible in the morning." He got up and began shedding his clothes on the way to the bathroom.

Jim followed, picking up the dropped clothing and folding it as he went. When he reached the bathroom, B'layr had already turned on the water and was testing the temperature. "Make it nice and warm," Jim suggested. "It will help to get us sleepy."

"I do not need help," B'layr said with a yawn.

Jim disrobed quickly and joined his mate under the spray. Standing behind the elf, he supported the smaller man's body weight as he leaned back into Jim's arms. Soaping his hands, Jim ran his fingers through the thatch of chest hair, scraping his thumbnails across the peaked nipples, and then letting his hands drop to rest over the flat belly. "I can't believe it," he sighed. "You're really pregnant?"

B'layr laughed. "You did not expect to become a father again at age ninety-one, did you?" He covered Jim's hands with his own. "There is yet magic in the world, my love. Nothing is impossible, if you believe."

"Now you're starting to sound like Tinkerbell," Jim teased.

B'layr gasped, struggling for breath as he spoke through his laughter. "Oh God ... not another damn fairy!"

~oO0Oo~

The First Class flight attendant on the London to New York leg of the journey watched with concern as the auburn-tressed woman in 2B bent over the "barf bag" she had snagged from the seat in front of her.

"Ma'am ... Are you all right?" the attendant asked, leaning over B'layr's seat.

"She's pregnant," Jim answered, wrapping an arm around the shaking shoulders and steadying his mate while he emptied his stomach.

"Is there anything I can get to help? Perhaps a 7-Up?"

Jim nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, a 7-Up would be fine." When the attendant had left to get the drink, he reached down with a handkerchief in his hand to wipe the spittle from B'layr's lips. "Finished?" B'layr nodded and sat back with a sigh. "The attendant is bringing you a soda."

"I do not think I want anything," B'layr said, looking a bit pale.

"You should have **_something_** in your system," Jim argued. "The way you're tossing your cookies, you need to eat more of them to get the nutrition you need."

"I do not need cookies," the elf replied. "A sweet red-fruit would be good."

The attendant returned with a glass of the lemon-lime soda and handed it to B'layr. Jim looked up and asked, "Any chance you have a tomato or two back in the galley?"

"Let me look," she said, turning toward the kitchenette. She returned a short time later with a handful of cherry tomatoes. "This type is all we have," she apologized. "I'm sure these won't be missed."

"Thank you," Jim said, smiling at her. "These will do fine." He turned to his mate and offered the morsels.

The offering earned Jim another kiss. "You really do think of everything," B'layr said, his voice shining with love.

~oO0Oo~

When their plane finally landed in Cascade, B'layr was exhausted. Jim had called Steven, Jr., in-flight, and had asked him to run by the loft to air it out. With B'layr's delicate condition, it seemed wise to rest from the daylong flight before attempting the trek back into the woods.

When they arrived at the apartment, Jim hung up his jacket and guided B'layr to the couch. Once he had his mate settled, he headed to the kitchen to dig in the refrigerator's vegetable bin. "I had Stevie make a market run on his way over here," he explained, slicing the Portabella mushrooms and ripe tomatoes, and bringing the plate over to B'layr.

The elf savored the sweet tastes, and his eyes sparkled. "This is what I miss the most being away," he said with a sigh. "As exciting as it can be to sample foreign cuisine, nothing tastes as good as what you get at home."

"Yeah," Jim agreed, putting the finishing touches on his roast beef sandwich and snagging a cold beer on his way back to the living room. He picked up the remote and clicked on the TV. The Cascade Jags were playing an exhibition game with the Toronto Raptors. "It's good to be home."

_**The End** _

 

Bibliography of reference sites listed in order of occurrence:

\+ Information on the city of Merida, Yucatan, Mexico was provided by the "Tour by Mexico" website: http:*[www.tourbymexico.com/yucatan/merida/merifram.htm](http://www.tourbymexico.com/yucatan/merida/merifram.htm)

\+ Facts regarding "El Castillo" and Chichn-Itz were gathered from the "Tour by Mexico" website: http:*[www.tourbymexico.com/yucatan/chichen/chicfram.htm](http://www.tourbymexico.com/yucatan/chichen/chicfram.htm) and the "Welcome to Chichn-Itz" website: http:*[www.internet-at-work.com/hos_mcgrane/chichen/chichen_index.html](http://www.internet-at-work.com/hos_mcgrane/chichen/chichen_index.html) and its various sub-pages:

"The Kukulcn Cult of Chichn-Itz"  
"The Pyramid of Kukulcn"  
"The Temple of the Jaguars"  
"The Ball Court"

\+ Information on the Luiseo tribe was found at: http:*[bss.sfsu.edu](http://bss.sfsu.edu)//calstudies/NativeWebPages/luiseno.html

\+ "The Bering Strait and the Land Bridge" http:*[www.cabrillo.cc.ca.us/~crsmith/bering.html](http://www.cabrillo.cc.ca.us/~crsmith/bering.html)

\+ Cape Prince of Wales, Alaska"  
http:*[www.poa.usace.army.mil/fuds/closings/AK09799F256400/](http://www.poa.usace.army.mil/fuds/closings/AK09799F256400/)

\+ Diomede Islands:  
http:*[www.bartleby.com/65/di/DiomedeI.html](http://www.bartleby.com/65/di/DiomedeI.html)

\+ Basic information on the Chukchi Indians in and around Anadyr, Siberia: http:*[www.tohickonglasseyes.com/chatiblecuases.htm](http://www.tohickonglasseyes.com/chatiblecuases.htm) http:*[www.wou.edu/las/socsci/anthro/r216Peg.html](http://www.wou.edu/las/socsci/anthro/r216Peg.html)

\+ Romania and Bucharest:  
http:*[bucharest.go.ro](http://bucharest.go.ro)//romania.htm

\+ Glossary of Romani words:  
http:*[www2.arnes.si](http://www2.arnes.si)//~eusmith/Romany/glossary.html

\+ Romani phrases:  
http:*[www2.arnes.si](http://www2.arnes.si)//~eusmith/Romany/phrases.html

* * *

End Ancestral Ties by Natalie L: nat1228@comcast.net

Author and story notes above.

  
Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount.


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